Emotionally drained, Wing cleaned his sword, then replacing it into the sheath sat down on the floor and rested. When he awoke it was late afternoon. The children had all fallen to sleep again and the house was warm with their sleeping bodies and pleasantly dim with all the shutters closed. Nien and Carly were awake, and so the three conversed, only the light from the fire and the occasional popping of wood adding to their whispered conversations.
On the heels of the trauma felt by all over the amputation of Hagen’s arm, and the fact that a legion of Ka’ull was camped less than an afternoon’s travel away, it seemed impossible to Wing that he should feel the day to be something rare and perfect. But here with Nien and Carly, the two people in the world that meant the most to him, and six sleeping children — their children — he found himself full beyond bearing.
Complete.
No other work to be done. No needing to be anywhere else. All there was to do was eat, sleep, talk, and watch.
Near evening, Wing checked the fire and went to Pree K’s side. The young man had changed considerably since Wing had seen him that last terrible night. His bony shoulders and long legs revealed growth. With some food, it wouldn’t take long to get some flesh on them. His once thin, delicate hands were now taut as talons. His face was creased with lines belonging to a man three times his age.
If there is a legend to be born from all of this, Wing thought, it should be him.
As a race, those, here in this one room were the last of the Rieevans — Wing held no illusions on that count. Any blood passed on to children between them would last no more than a generation. Nevertheless, memory lived longer than blood, and words and music longer still. They would write new legends, sing new songs, and pass their memories of this time and these lives to all those that were to come.
Pree K’s actions, the tenacity of the six great souls lying upon their family’s floor, would endure beyond race.
Adding a bit of fuel to the fire, Wing turned away from Pree K’s side and crawled across the floor to Carly where she lay with Hagen in the fold of her arms.
“Are you all right?” he asked.
Carly was looking down at Hagen. They were keeping him drugged with the phlevian root to help him sleep, but his soft hair was still wet with the sweat of pain and Carly’s face was sad.
“Yeah, I think so.” She stroked the boy’s head. “It breaks my heart, Wing, what they’ve been through. It’s not right.”
“I know.”
“I look in their faces and I want to believe they can start again. I want to believe that time will heal their wounds, that life can be normal for them again. But what if they’ve been through too much to be normal children, or adults? The task of rebuilding Rieeve may be a simple thing in comparison to rebuilding their lives.”
“We can only give them a place to start. They will have to find their own way from there.”
Carly looked up at Wing. “That they survived, I suppose, means they are here for a reason.”
Wing nodded to Hagen. “Want me to hold him for a while?”
“No,” Carly said, “he just fell to sleep again.”
Adjusting the blanket over Carly’s shoulders, Wing pulled another blanket with him and scooted back to lean against one of the sturdy legs of the Mesko table. The turns it had taken him to make the table seemed like an age ago. His mind drifted as he gazed around the room, everything he saw touching off a memory: Jake assuring Reean that it had not been him who encouraged Fey to stand atop an old dung pile filled with angry bees, Joash trying to unclog the drain in the family wash basin, Nien curled up with one of his books — a large piece of the evening’s dessert placed carefully between his chest and the hand holding the book.
Across the room one of the children stirred. Wing blinked and came back to the present. He looked over at Lily as she rolled about in her blankets, wrapping herself in a tight cocoon before falling still again.
A whole new set of memories will be made here now, he thought, and then caught himself. They had not meant to stay. The intention was to reconnaissance the valley and return to Legran as quickly as possible. But that had been before they’d found the kids. They would be unable to make the journey to Legran in their condition. But keeping them here seemed far more dangerous. The only thing protecting them was invisibility and that the Ka’ull soldiers at the castle had no reason to suspect anyone else would come into the valley.
The blue of night showered in through the open shutters, bathing the children in its calming glow.
To be here like this forever, Wing thought. That would be a good destiny.
But there would be no forever, if the Ka’ull discovered they were here. There was no evidence that the Ka’ull had ever been out here. The house and its contents were all in tact.
Glancing up, Wing took in the light from the fire as it played along the high cabin beams overhead before closing his eyes. The next thing he knew Nien was waking him to take second watch. They’d nailed heavy blankets over the windows at the back. They were a long way from Castle Viyer but on a dark, clear night there was a chance any firelight within the house might still be seen. Wing stood, holding the blanket back from the window, peering out. It was strange to look out his window and there be no Village lights glimmering faintly in the distance. Wing took a seat on his old bed. Night was full and heavy over the valley and in the back room when Carly came in to take over last watch. Wing slept for a bit on his old bed, arm wrapped around Carly’s belly as she sat, taking in the same dark scene he had been.
He fell asleep like that and woke alone, hearing the front door shut. Pushing off the covers Carly must have covered him with, he got up and went out into the main room.
“What’s this?” he whispered, tiptoeing over as Carly reached into the bucket she was carrying and pulled out an egg.
“Really?” Wing mumbled. “How?”
“The new residents.”
“From wild hens?”
Though her eyes were nearly brimming with tears, Carly nodded and smiled. “And this isn’t all of them — not by a ways. Now, if you don’t mind,” she said, and set an old skillet in Wing’s hand. “Don’t overcook them.”
Nien came stumbling out of the back room a short time later, as Wing stood over the large black skillet filled with the pop and sizzle of frying eggs. Rubbing his eyes, Nien shoved his face around Wing’s shoulder and breathed deeply, exhaling a huge sigh of deliciousness.
“Eggs?” he said.
Wing grinned.
“That’s amazing,” Nien said.
“E’te,” Wing agreed.
Nien stumbled away towards the large sink by the door and started pumping the long handle. No water came out.
Wing chuckled.
Nien glanced at him. “Wonderful.” He sniffed. “We need to work on that.”
Soon the children began to awake. En’t was the first to get up, followed soon by Pree K. Over the edges of their blankets, Lily and Fe peered, eyes shining.
Wing motioned them over. “Well, come on. You won’t fill your stomachs by staring.”
The three young men waited while the younger ones ate before sitting down themselves. They tried to feign interest in the conversation between Carly, Wing, and Nien but they fooled no one. Near starved to death, it was all they could do not to eat the plate once the eggs were gone.
“Easy,” Carly warned. “Your stomachs may not take to eating too much at first…” Her words had barely left her lips when Fe threw up on the floor. She whimpered and glanced up at Carly with trepidation.
Carly hurried around with a rag, telling Fe it was all right.
Getting up from the table, Wing announced that he was off to do some hunting. The wild hens were a blessing, but they’d need more than eggs to feed six half-starved children — once their stomachs adjusted at least.
“I can go with you,” En’t volunteered.
“No, you rest. We’re going to need all of you in good health; soon.”
“Don’t worry,” Jhock said. “It won’t take long.”
“I don’t doubt it,” Wing said.
Pulling on his long leather cloak, Wing took up a duffel from beside the front door. Inside it he placed his father’s knife — the one Joash often spent time sharpening while sitting on the stool next to the door.
Outside, Wing took his favored bow, the first one he had successfully made with Rhusta, and threw it over his shoulder. The fields he had once tended stretched out behind him as he moved off toward the sunsetting tree line, and even with a bow slung across his back and a sword swinging at his side, a familiar sense of preternatural calm assailed him. He would have preferred to have Nien with him — taking care of a fent, were he successful, was a big project by oneself — but there was no way they were going to leave the children with only one adult and the enemy less than a morning’s travel away.
And then Wing heard movement to his left. He froze, slowly curling his hand around the hilt of his sword.
From a stand of thick brush, Lucin emerged. He growled happily in his throat, and trotted toward Wing.
Wing pressed his hand to his heart. “Don’t do that,” he warned the shy’teh, and knelt to greet him.
Lucin hit Wing hard with a shoulder, purring and rubbing his face against Wing’s chest and neck. Wing laughed, scratching at the ruff between Lucin’s shoulders and behind his ears.
It was then Wing remembered it was roughly this part of the woods where he’d met his first shy’teh up close as he’d lain, helpless, arm caught in an old trap.
Lucin was only about half the size that shy’teh had been. Still, they had the same eyes and the same pitch-black coat and Wing was pleased that he had met and known more than one shy’teh in his life.
“How would you feel about helping me track down a fent?”
Lucin rumbled at him and the two set off, becoming attuned to each other and the forest as they moved.
The woods were full of animal chatter and the disparate calls of song birds. It didn’t take Lucin and Wing long to pick up on the trail of a fent in the soft ground of oncoming Ime. They followed the trail carefully before spotting the fent in a small splash of sunlight. Lucin crept up behind Wing. Wing had been his only mother and he’d never really had time to teach him how to hunt though it seemed the cub had picked it up well enough during their time in Legran. Across from them, the young buck’s head came up. Chewing, it looked around, ears twitching. Wing and Lucin fell dead still again and the buck went back to grazing. Its hindquarters were behind a tree but Wing had a pretty good shot at the buck’s front half.
Casting a quick eye on Lucin, Wing placed the arrow and drew back the bow.
Lucin jumped as the bow snapped.
The arrow struck true. The fent dropped in a heap.
Wing’s eyes sprang wide. “Did you see that!” he asked Lucin with a huge grin. Jumping to his feet, Wing looked at the fent, jabbed a finger at it, and barked triumphantly, “Take that, Rhusta!”
Beside him, Lucin stood, rumbling happily at Wing’s excitement.
Re-slinging his bow, Wing began crawling through the brush toward the fent, remembering the day Rhusta had told him that he was a fair tracker but didn’t have the guts to follow through and make the kill.
Wing got to the fent and began unpacking his tools and searching for the nearest suitable place for the rather large task now ahead of him. Lucin made the whole process less burdensome with his company as Wing slit and hung the fent to drain out while he dug holes on three sides for a tripod spit and gathered wood and kindling for a fire. Setting the largest, flattest stones he could find in the fire, he set to skinning and quartering. The sharp blade of his father’s knife and his gratitude to the fent and what it meant to the six hungry young people back at the house, made the job he’d abhorred while living with Rhusta much more palatable.
Hanging some meat over the spit, he braised as much as he could on the heated stones, preparing it for stewing that night.
Lucin watched Wing with anticipation throughout the process.
Sunsteps later, and the bloodiest of the work behind him, Wing rinsed his hands from his water skin, took up a piece of the raw meat, and tossed it over to the shy’teh.
“There you go. Now, no stealing,” Wing said. “I’m going to look for berries.”
Leaving Lucin to his meal, Wing hunted nearby for any kind of edible berry that would fruit during Kojko. Some fall fruit would be better after the first frost, if he could find it. Though it hadn’t felt cold enough in the valley last night, it might have dipped below freezing in the mountains.
Knowing where to look, thanks to Rhusta, Wing didn’t have to go too far before finding a cluster of purple jala shrubs with near-to-ripe berries and some tiny trin apples. He bit one of the small trins, grimacing in anticipation of a very bitter answer. To his surprise, the little apple was only slightly tart.
Returning with the hood of his cloak full of the jala berries and trins, he found the meat coming along as well as possible. It had already been more than half the day. While some larger pieces continued to smoke over the fire, Wing began to pack the duffel with the rest.
As the sun dipped lower over the mountains, Wing put out the fire, tore apart the tripod, spread the ashes, and packed the last of the meat.
Lucin traveled with him until they’d descended the mountain and come to the valley’s edge. As Wing started out across the fields toward the house, Lucin stopped. Wing glanced back.
“The children?” he asked. “You’ll get used to them.” Lucin blinked back at him. “You know, you can always sneak in the back door.”
As a precaution, they were keeping the children as well as fire or lamp light away from the back of the house which faced the northing side of the valley and Castle Viyer, hence it would make for a dark and quiet entrance for Lucin.
But the big cat did not come ahead.
Walking back, Wing ran his hand along Lucin’s head. “Well, thanks for the company today. You’re welcome in the house if you change your mind.”
Hitching the heavy duffel higher on his aching shoulders, Wing continued on, glancing back once to saw Lucin still standing at the edge of the fields, watching him go.
Up at the house, while Nien coerced some flow from the well, Carly worked to repair the damage done to the barn and coop, trying to keep her mind from worrying over what was keeping Wing so long.
“There must have been a terrible storm through here,” Carly said to herself, her voice strained as she reached to nail a top board that had come loose on the side of the barn.
“Some help?” Jhock asked, walking over.
“Yes!”
Jhock hurried to steady the board, pressing it firm as Carly pounded the nail home. Just then Pree K came up.
Carly could see it all over him — something was wrong.
“What is it?” Carly asked.
“It’s Hagen. I think you should come.”
Setting aside her tools, Carly shouted for Nien and she and Jhock followed Pree K back up to the house. Inside, En’t was sitting in Reean’s old rocking chair, holding Hagen. Nien came in just as Carly pulled the blanket back from the stump of Hagen’s arm. The deathly green colour was back and had begun to make its way up the rest of his arm toward his shoulder. Lost again in fever, Hagen’s little frame twisted and shook.
As Carly, Nien, and the older boys looked down at the arm, it felt as if the green decay was eating its way through the impossibly tenuous threads of their existence.
“We can’t continue to whittle away at him,” Carly said quietly.
Jhock and Pree K stood silently, heads lowered, hands thrust deep into their pockets. En’t rocked Hagen, dabbing at the boy’s forehead with a moist cloth.
Frustrated and helpless, Carly, with Nien at her side, continued to stare at the decaying limb as if some answer might spring from it. For all their training, this was something they did not know how to fight, and the thought of watching Hagen slowly bei
ng consumed was more than either of them could bear.
How was it even possible? Carly wondered. Of their entire race, only nine of them remained. To lose Hagen...
“Where’s Wing?” Nien said softly — just as the front door opened.
“Boy, you two work quick,” Wing said, stepping inside and setting down the duffel. “The barn — ” Wing stopped as five sets of eyes fell upon him from across the room.
Removing his cloak, Wing hung it beside the door and walked over to where the small group huddled around the rocking chair.
Jhock and Pree K parted for him, and Wing stepped into the circle, his eyes coming to rest on Hagen’s arm. He looked at it for only a moment before shifting his eyes to Nien and Carly.
Clearly the look on her and Nien’s faces was enough.
To En’t, Wing held out his hands and said, “Here.”
En’t stood and, drawing the blanket back over Hagen’s shoulders, handed him to Wing.
Holding Hagen against his chest, Wing stepped out of the circle of anxious faces and walked across the room toward the fireplace.
Carly stood with the others, watching from the center of the room.
Near the fireplace, Wing stopped.
Hagen’s agonized writhing caused the blanket he was wrapped in to wriggle as if it had a life of its own.
Carly swallowed and closed her eyes briefly. When she opened her eyes again the room had fallen impossibly still.
Carly noticed the three young men exchanging uneasy glances but her attention as well as Nien’s was focused on Wing.
In perfect stillness, Wing stood.
Nothing, Carly thought, could be that still and yet so…fluid. It was as if her eyes were playing tricks on her.
Even as she thought this, the air in the room thinned and it seemed as if something new took its place.
What was happening? Carly wondered.
No sooner had she wondered this than Wing turned and, raising his head, opened his eyes.
Wing & Nien Page 68