Drasmyr (Prequel: From the Ashes of Ruin)
Page 54
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Little Jeredin shook his head, then squeaked in pain as his skull bumped against something hard and unyielding. Startled, he opened his eyes. A quiet darkness surrounded him, and he had the feeling of a large weight pressing down on his back.
Jeredin took a long frightened breath. Slowly, realization dawned; he must have fallen asleep while hiding.
The young boy crawled forward and extricated himself from the surrounding debris. As he did so, his thoughts strayed to his older sister. Where was Sirah? Maybe she’d forgotten him? No, she wouldn’t forget, not about him. She couldn’t. Maybe the men had gotten her? He whimpered at that thought. The three men had chased his sister and him down an alley. They had howled awful things at him, and scared him almost witless. Terrified, he had just run and run as fast as his little legs could carry him. Although only six years old, he was fast for his age and hard to get a hold of.
Jeredin didn’t know how it happened, but somewhere in his flight he’d lost his sister. One moment, they were running side by side and the next he was running all alone. In desperation, he had called out for her, shouting her name at the top of his lungs, but the men had been coming. He had heard them getting closer, so he had tried to hide. If he could stay out of their grasp, he could search for his sister when they left. The pile of old garbage smelled bad, but it had been the only thing available. Shielded from the storm by a convenient overhang, it offered an alluring hiding spot which Jeredin gladly took to. He crawled beneath the filth, closed his eyes, and held his breath. He was only six, but he knew if the men found him, they would hurt him. Somehow, buried in the rubble with his eyes squeezed tight and his breath locked in his chest, little Jeredin had fallen asleep.
A sharp, jagged piece of rusted metal slashed across the little boy’s hand as he crawled out into the snow-filled alley. Giving a pained cry, Jeredin pulled his arm to his side and cuddled his injured hand against his shirt. It was a small wound, barely more than a scratch, but it bled a lot and stung quite badly. He tried to scratch and rub it, but that just brought more pain. A lonely tear fell from the young boy’s eye. Sirah would know what to do. She knew how to take care of cuts and bruises. Where was she?
“Sirah,” Jeredin called, walking carefully down the alley. He saw no sign of the three men or his sister. Where could she be? He couldn’t find his way home without her. What could he do?
Find a lady. That’s what Sirah always told him: if he was in trouble and needed help, he should find a lady. According to Sirah, men wouldn’t help a little boy, but a lady might. Jeredin didn’t understand why such a thing might be true, but Sirah knew best, so he didn’t question her.
Jeredin peeked around a corner, then ducked back. He watched as two men strode by. They weren’t any of the earlier three and they didn’t look mean, but he didn’t want anything else to do with any grown up men tonight. He waited until the men were gone, then peeked around again.
There. He saw a very pretty lady walking down the alley.
Jeredin sighed in relief. She was the most beautiful lady he’d ever seen! She didn’t just move down the alley, she flowed with the grace befitting an angel of the gods and she wore hair that shone like spun gold. Surely she could help! Her white dress was a little ruffled and dirty, but she was a wonderful, comforting sight for a small child to behold.
Crying, he rushed into the alley toward her. She started when she saw him coming, but didn’t move. Sobbing loudly, he wrapped his arms around her hips. For an odd moment, he was frightened that he’d found a ghost. It almost felt like his hands were passing through her, but then she was there, firm, and solid, and so very real. He looked up at her sobbing, barely noticing the small circle of blood he’d smeared on her dress.
“Can you help me?” he cried. “I can’t find my sister.”
The blue eyes that looked back down at him were pools of liquid anguish.