by P. C. Cast
Dove acted on instinct. Moving with the preternatural grace she’d cultivated from a lifetime of blindness, she used one movement to pull Lily to face her and then Dove slapped the girl across her cheek—hard.
“Don’t you ever say that about our Champion. I am the God’s Oracle. If our Champion was dead, don’t you think I would know it?”
“Y-yes, of course, Mistress. I’m sorry! I’m so sorry! It’s just that there is so much blood. It—it covers the God and drips like tears from Her face down Her body to pool with our Champion, and he is cold and still.”
“Then it is a good thing that I cannot see so that I will not be deceived as you have been. Lead me to him!”
“As you command, Mistress.”
Lily took Dove’s elbow and guided her the rest of the way to the God’s balcony. Before she got to Dead Eye’s body, the scent of blood was so thick it seemed to Dove that the balcony must be awash in it. She almost expected to feel drops forming in the air, to drizzle around them like early spring rain.
“He is there, by—”
“I can find him now.” Dove shook off Lily’s guiding hand and followed the scent of blood and the pulsing energy that always radiated from her lover to find Dead Eye, crumbled on his side, resting against the God’s foot as if in supplication. She knelt and ran her hands all over his body, cataloguing the nasty, weeping slash that gaped from high on his right forearm all the way down to his wrist as the only wound she could feel. She found his pulse. It was shallow and too fast, but it was there. His skin was cold and felt damp with sweat, as well as slick with the massive amount of blood he’d lost. He was breathing in small, shallow gasps. Dove moved quickly and decisively. She pulled the short tunic she’d slept in over her head and, using her teeth to begin the tear, ripped a long strip from the hem and began winding it tightly around her lover’s ravaged arm, speaking to Lily as she worked. “Who else knows he has been injured?”
“No one. The other Attendants are finishing the tasks our Champion set us to. I only came here to begin brewing your morning tea, and to ask if you and he would like to break your fast with boar meat.”
“Do not allow any of the other Attendants within the chamber until I tell you so. And do not tell them the Champion has been wounded.”
“But, Mistress, he—”
“He is not dead!” Dove hissed the words at Lily. “And I will not have the People panicked!”
“Y-yes, Mistress.”
“I need your help, Lily. May I count on you?”
“Oh, Mistress! Of course!”
“Excellent, for when he awakens, and he will awaken, I give you the God’s word on that, our Champion will reward all who were loyal to me, and punish all who were not—just as he culled the blasphemous Watchers from this very balcony not so long ago again.”
Dove could tell by the rustling sounds of Lily’s skirts that the girl was bowing in deep supplication to her. “I hear and will loyally obey, Mistress.”
“Thank you, Lily. I value your loyalty. Now, listen carefully. First, bring pelts to cover him and make him comfortable. I cannot feel the heat of the firepots. Feed them. Our Champion is cold. Get me strips of clean cloth and plenty of clean water. Then order the Attendants to boil the marrowbones of the boar into broth, and bring it to me as quickly as possible.” Dove could feel Lily turning away to do her bidding, and her hand snaked out to capture the girl’s thin wrist. Thinking quickly, Dove said, “What has happened here is the working of the God. She has asked our Champion for a blood sacrifice, and the only blood rich enough, strong enough, was his.”
“And She has accepted his sacrifice?” Lily asked tremulously.
Dove forced herself to smile and nod confidently. “She has! Our Champion lives and he will speak with the God’s voice when he awakens. Until he does, the People would only be frightened by our Champion’s sacrifice—as were you.”
“I understand, Mistress. I will do as you say.”
Dove released her and the girl ran from the balcony, returning quickly with pelts.
“Make his pallet away from the pool of blood and nearer to the firepots,” Dove told Lily, who did as she commanded.
“The pallet is ready, Mistress.”
“Help me move him there—carefully.”
Together, the two young women slowly dragged Dead Eye’s huge body onto the waiting pallet.
“Now, get me that water and the bandages.” Dove paused; frantically she shifted through her memories, trying to find anything that might help her lover, and she remembered that the old Watchers used to stink of garlic cloves because they insisted if they smashed the cloves and added them to honey they found relief from the cracking wounds on their skin and even some small measure of healing. “Bring me garlic bulbs, too, and honey.”
“Yes, Mistress!”
Lily brought the water and the strips of clean cloth, and then she hastened from the chamber to search out garlic and honey. Finally alone with her lover, Dove began speaking to him as she cleaned the dried blood from his body and forced water between his slack lips.
“Beloved, you must awaken. I cannot lead the People from this poisoned City to the forest—only you can do that. Only you can be their savior—their God. Wake, beloved, and speak to your Dove.”
Dead Eye did not stir.
“Mistress, I have the garlic and honey.” Lily rushed back to Dove, breathing heavily. As she guided Dove’s hands to the things she’d asked for, Dove took a moment to tenderly squeeze the young Attendant’s arm and speak reassuring words to her.
“You are doing well, Lily. You have been a great help to me. Our Champion will reward you when he awakens.”
“Has he spoken yet?” Lily asked.
“He is still communing with the God,” Dove said. “Please get the broth now. Our Champion will need it very soon.”
As the girl hurried from the Chamber again, Dove crushed the garlic cloves, adding them to the wooden bowl that held the honey. When her concoction was ready, Dove unwound the cloth from Dead Eye’s wounded arm. Working fast, as he’d begun to bleed anew as soon as the pressure was released from the wound, Dove packed the sticky mixture around and within the long gash. Then she pressed the jagged cut together with one hand while she rewrapped new strips of cloth around his arm—tying it firmly.
Dove wiped the rest of the dried blood from her lover’s face and neck, and then she sat close beside him, holding his wounded arm on her lap so that she could apply pressure to the wound. She sat there with him, rocking gently and talking—always talking to her beloved.
“Awaken, my Champion. I need you to speak to me. I cannot imagine a world without your deep, clever voice. I need you, beloved. Please return to me.”
He did not speak, did not stir at all, but Dove was relieved when she felt his breathing deepen. She managed to get him to swallow several cups of water, though it seemed more of an automatic reflex than the reasoned action of taking sustenance. The balcony grew warmer as the firepots heated the area. Not long after Dead Eye had stopped shivering, Lily returned in a wash of the rich scent of marrow broth.
“Mistress, the broth is ready!”
“Thank you, Lily. You may leave us now.”
“But—but when may your Attendants return? They are already asking what has happened. What shall I tell them?” Lily said.
“You tell them the God is speaking with our Champion. If they are not satisfied by that answer, they may question the God and our Champion when they are allowed to return to the Temple. I pity the man or woman of the People who thinks he or she may question a God.”
“Of course, Mistress,” Lily said.
“When it is time, Dead Eye and I will call the Attendants to us here, the God’s balcony. Until then, wait in the courtyard. Tend the firepots. Smoke the meat. Be about the tasks your Champion commanded. I am counting on you to keep the People calm, Lily.”
“I won’t disappoint you, Mistress!”
Dove reached out with a blood-smeared ha
nd and Lily grasped it. “Thank you, Lily. Your loyalty at this difficult time means more to me than I can say.”
When the girl was gone, Dove resituated herself so that Dead Eye’s head rested on her lap. She lifted him, struggling with his weight, so that she could hold him in her arms as she drizzled the warm, fragrant broth down his throat. He swallowed convulsively over and over, and Dove lost track of how long she sat there, holding her lover and coaxing him to drink. All the while she spoke to him as if he could hear her—as if he would awaken any moment and take her into his arms, laughing at her fear and reminding her he was mighty as a stag, that it would take more than a wounded arm and a fall to kill him.
The rising sun warmed Dove’s skin, and she tilted her eyeless face up, saying, “Beloved, the sun is high and warm. You must wake now. The Others will be limping about, trying to recover from the fire. You must be there, beloved. You promised me a place in the clouds by your side, and I hold you to that promise.”
She felt the change in his body immediately. He drew a deep breath, expanding his mighty chest.
“Beloved?” Her hands fluttered to his face, feeling his eyelids blinking open. “Beloved! You awaken!”
He didn’t speak. Instead, he sat up, disentangling himself from her arms. She could tell he was looking at her—feel his gaze on her. She smiled tremulously and stretched a hand to him. “My Champion, are you well?”
“Dove. It is pleasing to see you.”
It happened in an instant. The moment he spoke her name Dove knew the man sitting before her was no longer Dead Eye—no longer her Champion and her lover. To anyone who hadn’t spent a lifetime listening as closely as she had to people’s voices, the change would have been difficult, if not impossible, to detect. But Dove was not like other people. She knew things eyes could not see, so she understood—beyond any doubt—that whatever had happened that night had irrevocably changed her lover.
She felt as if her heart would implode. Dove wanted to scream her despair and loss to the sky, but for all the years of her short life she had been surviving and the habit to protect herself—to live—was strong, stronger even than her broken heart.
Dove forced her lips to smile. “My Champion! I knew you would return!” She leaned forward, opening her arms to accept him. She didn’t need eyes to feel his hesitation, though she remained there, arms wide, smiling as if nothing had changed between them.
He did finally take her into his arms, pressing her body to his. “I had forgotten the softness of a living woman’s skin. It is pleasing.”
“Beloved? I—I don’t understand your words.” She remained malleable in his arms, surrendering to his increasingly rough caresses. “We have joined many times. Why does this seem new to you? Have—have you somehow been reborn?”
A shudder went through his body then, and when he spoke next she recognized his voice as his own again and his touch became gentle and familiar.
“Precious one! Do not worry—do not despair. A miracle happened last night, and that miracle will change our world forever!”
“Beloved!” Dove clung to him, flooded with relief. “You have truly come back to me! I was so frightened. It seemed as if you were gone, though your body remained.”
Dead Eye’s skin quivered and he cupped her face between his hands. When he spoke, his voice was filled with power and lust—and was utterly not her beloved’s voice.
“Little Dove, it was your Dead Eye’s determination that finally awakened me, but you will soon realize that much has changed with your lover.”
“Forgive me. I do not understand.”
“Oh, I believe you do.” She could hear the smile in His voice, though it lacked humor. His words were filled with arrogance and something else, something dark and dangerous. “My Consort and I have long been content to sleep. For eons we have rested, watching the world turn, change, destroy itself, and rebuild again and again. We were content, allowing our dreams to walk the earth in the guise of old age, disease, and tragedy—as well as a flourishing forest, crops ripening, and winter changing to spring. But my sleep has come to an end. Through disease and desire, blood sacrifice and faith, you and your Dead Eye have awakened me, and now he and I are joined for eternity—just as you and my Consort shall very soon be joined.”
Dove couldn’t help that her body began to tremble. “Who—who are you?”
“Don’t you recognize me? You have been claiming to be my Oracle for years.”
“The Reaper God?” Dove whispered. “You live?”
His laughter had fear skittering down her spine. “I have always lived! I was simply sleeping, waiting for the awakening. Though I do not like this Reaper name the People have given me. I prefer the name I have had since the beginnings of the world.”
“Wh-what name is that?” she said through numb lips.
“Death. But you, my lovely little bird, may call me Lord.”
And then Death, wearing the skin of her Champion, her lover, her life, ravaged her there on the hard, bloody floor of the balcony while the silent God looked down and wept scarlet. Dove forced her body to accept Him, to be soft and submissive, though inside her mind she screamed over and over and over.…
CHAPTER 19
Sora woke to chaos and complaints, and she instantly wished she hadn’t been so insistent that Mari leave, because she definitely did not have everything handled. What she had was a group of people who were wounded, weary, and sad—or healthy, restless, and bored.
Sitting in front of the hearth fire, Sora muddled honey with lavender and poppy pods with one hand as she stirred a rich barley mushroom soup with the other.
“Jenna!” Sora called, trying to be heard over chattering women’s voices and the surprisingly loud baby animal noises the very awake and very annoying litter of puppies was making.
“I’m here, Sora!” Jenna hurried from the back room with Danita shadowing her. “Can I get you something?”
“Yes, more mushrooms. This stew needs to stretch.” She paused as Cammy came racing up to her, huffing doggy laughter with two of Fala’s pups tangled around his feet. “Do that outside!” she snapped at the little blond Terrier, then immediately felt bad, as his head and tail went down and he stared at her with big eyes while he whined pitifully.
“Don’t let him fool you,” Davis said as he hurried to catch his Companion. “Cammy knows better than to play rough in a nest. Er, or burrow. I’m sorry, Sora. I’ll take him and the pups outside.”
“There’s a nice spot in the clearing by the stream where we Gathered last night,” O’Bryan said, ruffling the fur on Cammy’s head before picking up the two rambunctious pups. “I’ll help you take all of them out. Sheena’s already there, trying to catch some fish to add to the stew.”
“That sounds good. Would you also keep an eye out for mushrooms? That’ll help stretch the—” Sora’s words broke off as she felt a warm, soft little body curl up on her feet. She looked down and, sure enough, there was the sun-kissed pup, blinking innocently up at her.
“Where is the other girl pup?” Rose was saying as she limped the length of the long burrow, peering around pallets and into woven baskets, searching for the young canine.
“She’s over here,” Sora said with a sigh.
“I’ll get her!” O’Bryan said. “Sorry about all these canines in your way.” He reached to remove the pup from Sora’s feet, but her hand on his arm stayed him.
“Oh, she’s fine. She keeps my feet warm.”
O’Bryan’s eyes glinted as if he knew a secret Sora was unwilling to share, but all he did was shrug. “No problem. If you get tired of her, we’ll be by the stream.”
“Take Rose, Sarah, and Lydia with you. Go slowly and let them rest in the shade. Fresh air will do them good. I’ll have the poppy tea and a change of dressings ready about the time the stew is done cooking,” Sora said, shifting her feet so the pup could find a more comfortable position.
“I don’t know if Lydia and I can walk down to the Gathering spot,”
Rose was saying as she stroked Fala, who kept throwing what Sora interpreted as suspicious glances at the sun-kissed pup who was now soundly asleep on Sora’s feet. “We woke up so stiff this morning that it’s hard to move at all.”
“So, here’s what I read about burn recovery from the Moon Woman journals,” Sora said matter-of-factly. “Yes, if they’re too bad, the patient must remain inside and very still while the dead skin is debrided and then covered with wet, clean cloths soaked in water, honey, and garlic. Rose, you and Lydia were not burned that badly. You’re sore and stiff, but if you stay inside and don’t move the damaged parts of your bodies you’ll remain sore and stiff, even after the wounds turn to scars—tight, uncomfortable, unsightly scars.” Sora almost felt bad for adding the part about unsightly. She’d made that up, but Rose and Lydia were young women, and if she couldn’t appeal to their desire to be healed, then she would try to appeal to their vanity. And, oh yes, the Tribe is very vain with their tall blond bodies and their ability to channel sunlight. “You decide,” Sora concluded, shrugging one shoulder and going back to muddling the tea mixture.
“I’ll join the others outside. And I’ll make sure Lydia and Sarah do, too,” Rose said. As an afterthought she added, “If you get tired of the pup, call for Fala. She’ll hear you and let me know we need to come get her.”
“Will do. And I say again—to anyone and everyone—stay close to the burrow and don’t go anywhere alone. If you see an Earth Walker male, do not try to reason with him. Get me immediately. I’ll take it from there.” Though what she was supposed to do with diseased and dangerous males wasn’t entirely clear to her. Sora’s best guess at how to handle the situation was to knock a male over the head, tie him up, pour poppy tea down his throat, and wait until the moon had risen to Wash him.
“Understood,” O’Bryan said as Rose, Davis, and Jenna nodded in agreement.
“And Jenna, tell Danita that she’s worked in the pantry long enough. Take her with you to the stream to hunt for mushrooms, and while you’re hunting—stay close to the burrow—I want the two of you to practice hitting targets with the slingshots we brought from Mari’s burrow. None of us should be going anywhere unarmed for a very long time.”