by Zoe Saadia
Her eyes leaped at him, frightened. “How is he? Is he … is he alive?”
“Yes, he is. He is getting better. I saw him briefly. He is recovering. When you come back, make sure you spend some time with him. He needs all the encouragement he can get. Broken ribs are a nasty thing.”
She nodded listlessly. “I will.” But her eyes dropped to the ground and stayed there, refusing to meet his. He watched the tears falling down, huge, silent, wetting the earth.
“It all will be well,” he muttered helplessly, not knowing what to say. It wouldn’t be, of course it wouldn’t. There was no solution to this.
The wounded stirred again. Raising his head, he tensed, murmured, but her soothing touch made him relax, her free hand caressing, running alongside his body in the gentlest of manners, avoiding the long, twisted cut and the swelling around it, easing him back to sleep.
She could have made a good healer, thought Migisso randomly, feeling out of place, an odd person, an intruder. He never suspected her of having so much patience and tenderness.
Frowning, he got to his feet.
“You are not leaving, are you?” she asked, looking up, eyes pleading. “Please don’t leave. Not until it gets dark. Please!”
“I won’t leave,” he said curtly, not meeting her gaze. “I’ll stay as long as it takes. Until we see if the medicine helps.” Easing his shoulders, he sighed. “Then I will go, but I’ll return to see him one more time, before they leave. They’ll wait for the dawn, won’t they?”
She nodded eagerly.
“I’ll see his friend, in the meanwhile. We promised him that, remember? And then maybe the other wounded, if they ask me. I don’t have to sit here beside your hero the way you do. He is not groping for my hands.”
That made her smile. “I should hope he wouldn’t do that.” Then the smile was gone, replaced with the deeper glow, shining out of her eyes, making her again irresistibly beautiful. “You are an outstanding man, Brother. I will never forget, never!”
Abruptly, she opened her eyes, frightened. Had she fallen asleep? The roaring of the river and the wailing of the wind outside the protective cover of the cliff were disturbing, telling of danger. Where was she?
The soft hum of people’s voices carried in the crispness of the night, not raising or threatening. Still, they made her insides freeze, their foreign-sounding words a reminder. So many terrible things happened through the past few days.
Heart pounding, she straightened up, then relaxed all at once, sensing his presence. He was watching her, half-sitting, leaning against the wall, eyes glimmering in the semidarkness, not feverish and not clouded. Calm, tranquil, holding a smile.
“I think I sleep, a little,” she muttered, feeling incredibly silly, heart still fluttering.
“Yes, you did. You have a nice sleeping face.” His smile intensified. “Lovely, peaceful. Pretty.”
“I’m not…” Nervously, she pushed her hair away, wishing to look anywhere but into the unsettling glow of his eyes, yet unable not to. “I… I’m sorry. Didn’t want to fall, to fall asleep…” Then the memories flooded in. “You are better! You not hot or dreaming. You are awake!” Involuntarily, her eyes strayed toward the sticky mess of his side, the ointment covering it thickly, concealing the wound. Evidently, Migisso didn’t spare on the healing substance, spending not a half of the amount on all the other wounded put together.
“Yes, I am.” His nod was careful, barely perceptible, not moving the rest of his body at all. “I’m better now, much better. Thanks to you.”
She felt the blazing wave of heat washing over her face, making it burn.
“No, not me. It was you. You did, did so wonderful. Saved. Saved us all, the village, and the people, and your people. You did this. Not me.” Uncomfortable under the strange glimmer of his gaze, she rushed on, breathless. “It was incredible, incredible how you faced them, my people, with no fear. I didn’t believe, didn’t think possible, but it was. And then, oh, Mighty Glooskap, when I saw the knife, oh, it was… I tried to warn… but it was fast, too fast! And I failed, and he stabbed, and then…” Her voice broke, but his palm reached for hers, and it made her feel stronger, like it always did. Oh, but she had already grown accustomed to relying on his strength. “I afraid, afraid so!”
His smile didn’t waver. “Nothing to be afraid of, not anymore. We managed, didn’t we? We stopped that fight, and neither of us died, and our people didn’t kill each other. And all will be well now.” He hesitated, and his smile faded, as his eyes concentrated, studying her, darkening. “This leader, he was your father, wasn’t he? The War Chief.”
“Yes,” she whispered, dropping her gaze.
The silence lingered, uncomfortably heavy.
“I’m glad you came down here with us after what happened.” His voice rang stonily, the fury in it well hidden, but she knew it was there, bubbling not far from the surface. “He wouldn’t have let you leave the village if you hadn’t.”
“I will never speak to him again.” Her anger came back as forcefully, as intense. “I will never look at him, nor address him by name or title. I will not step inside his house, and I will not remain in his vicinity. Never again will I mar my sight with his treacherous image.”
Was she speaking her own tongue instead of his? She didn’t care, as long as his hand tightened around hers once again, encouraging, full of understanding.
“Not see, or speak, or look this man,” she repeated in his tongue, grateful that he didn’t ask how she’d do all that. Because, of course, she didn’t see the clear way. “Never!”
“So, it seems you have nothing to come back to.”
The stony expression was gone, and the warmth that flooded his voice made her look up. There was a strange tickling in her hands and feet, and a wave of breathless expectation that splashed through her stomach. Did he have a solution to all this? And if so, why was he amused?
“Maybe you shouldn’t return to your village at all.”
The mysterious smile that made her blush so badly before lightened his tired features. She stared at him, at a loss, aware of the way her face began burning again, hoping he would not see it in the semidarkness.
“Where go then?” she asked, stumbling over the words, her voice tiny and thin, like that of a child. She tried to collect her thoughts.
“Come with me,” he said quietly, his amusement gone, replaced by calm sincerity. With an effort, he leaned forward, disregarding the pain in too obvious of a way, pressing his lips, his skin glittering with perspiration. “I know we happened upon each other in the strangest of ways, and I know we are not supposed to, but…” His eyes bored into her, questioning, or maybe expecting her to say something right. “But if you come with me, I will make sure you will not regret it.”
She stared at him, speechless, frozen in surprise, her disappointment so vast it threatened to choke her. He wanted her to come along, to follow him into the distant lands of the sunset, leaving behind everything she ever knew, her village, her woods, her family and clan. He wished her to follow him into the lands of her people’s sworn enemy, the fierce foreigners she always feared and abhorred. But for what? To what end, what purpose? He was ready to take her along because she had nowhere to go, no other reason. Oh, but he was so annoying, so unfair!
The tears were near again, and she turned away quickly, ashamed. Oh, Benevolent Spirits, let him not see this!
“What?”
His hand tried to reach her, but she backed away, not ready for his touch, not anymore.
“What happened? Was it something I said?” There was an anxiety in his voice now, an open worry. “Wait!”
On her feet already, she turned to run but hesitated, unable to see through the tears, afraid to tread on the sleeping figures of the other wounded, unwilling to face all the warriors out there, sleeping or not.
“Kentika, wait!” He was leaning forward, as though about to get up, wavering but holding on, his teeth gritting with pain. “Don’t run away!” It came out more
like a grunt, but now that he gave up on the effort, leaning on both hands instead, relatively steady, he was glaring at her, his gaze holding hers, willing her to obey. “Come back, and tell me what’s wrong.”
Drawing one convulsive breath after another, she tried to make her head work.
“I don’t, don’t want come back.” It came out sounding childish. She clenched her teeth in frustration. “You don’t need, don’t need anymore. You get better now. Don’t need I come.”
“Yes, I do,” he said firmly. “Come back now.”
Next to him again but refusing to sit down—a compromise; he couldn’t tell her what to do—she peeked at him from under her eyebrows.
“Tell me what’s wrong. Why did you try to run away?” Clearly, it came to him with an effort, this need to look up, but he didn’t complain, although his face again lost its vividness, turned frighteningly pale. In the corner of her mind, she wondered if Migisso was on his way back, bringing more medicine. The brew in the flask he had left was to be used again not before dawn, according to his firm instructions.
“I did not, did not run away.” Still refusing to meet his gaze, she linked her arms across her chest, not knowing what else to do with them. “I just think you better, got better. So no need to have me now.”
“Yes, yes need. Sit down!” It came out like an order, but his voice rang stridently, not managing to gain its usual firmness.
“You have rest, need rest.” She knelt but refused to squat comfortably, expressing the temporary state of her position.
He regarded her with pointedly narrowed eyes. “I’ll rest after you tell me what’s wrong; what made you run away?”
“Nothing!” Oh, why did she kept sounding like an angry child?
“You don’t have to come with me. It was just a suggestion.”
“I don’t want to!”
His eyes narrowed into two slits. “I see.”
“You want me come, come for what? So far away, no family, no people, my people, and to do what?” The tears were spilling again, ruining her ability to talk coherently. What was wrong with her? “You don’t want me, you just say that, to help, to solve. You think you put, put me in trouble. So you say come. But I don’t, don’t want it. I won’t come—”
His hand locked around her wrist as she tried to jump to her feet again, rock-hard, although it made him struggle to maintain his balance.
“Stop yelling. Calm down, just clam down!”
“I’m not, not yelling,” Her feeble attempt to break free didn’t help. Wounded and exhausted, he was still stronger; now that she had made him angry even more so.
“Listen, Kentika, just listen.” With an effort, he pulled her closer, bringing the memory of the shore back in force, how he leaned forward back then and how his lips felt upon hers. “You got it all wrong, you wild thing. I do want you, I do! Don’t you remember what happened on the previous night? But for all the trouble, we would have done more than kissing, wouldn’t we?” With the tension and anger gone, the unsettling glow was back, causing her heart to slide up her throat, to stay there and flutter weakly, her thoughts scattering helplessly, in spectacular disarray. “I want you, and I need you, and I think we’ll make a good family. It is something about you …” His eyes strayed, sliding over her face, studying it in wonder. “Maybe all your women are like that, or maybe it’s just you, but in my lands, I have never met anyone like you, no girl of that kind. And I love it about you, your untamed spirit, your strength, your loyalty. Those eyes of yours that reflect your every thought. The smile.” His gaze deepened as the mischievous spark left it, and now it was her who had to lean on him and not the other way around, because her limbs lacked the strength to support her. “When you are excited, you smile, and then you are as beautiful as the Rainbow Goddess.”
“Who is this goddess?” she murmured, but his lips were already pressing hers, parting them forcefully, like back on the shore.
Dry and cracked, with the bitter taste of the medicine upon them, they still felt breathtakingly enticing, a thrill she had never experienced before, no matter how exciting it was to hunt a rabbit or beat someone in a climbing contest. No excitement could compare to this, the wild pounding of her heart confirmed, while her lips explored his, enchanted by this newfound delight.
Breathing heavily, they stared at each other, and then the twinkle was back, and his laughter held all the mischief.
“See?” he whispered, leaning back heavily, exhausted but still in high spirits, still trembling with laughter. “Will you go back to your village and miss this?”
Giggling, she made herself more comfortable, reaching out, touching his face, running her fingers alongside the firm line of his jaw, something she had wanted to do for a long time, she realized.
“So you want, yes, you prove. You no lie.” Taking in his pallor, and the way his eyes were sunken, she straitened up resolutely. “But now you rest, until time drink medicine. No more kisses, not now.” Unable to fight the temptation, not knowing herself if she wished to kiss some more or just to tease, she brushed her lips against his, escaping his groping hand. “No, not now. Now healing. Be good. Behave. And then, then later, yes, more kiss.”
Letting her words hang, she beamed at him, suddenly so happy she was afraid it would come out in a shrieking whoop or some other inappropriately loud expression. Oh, but it was good to be free with him, free to laugh and tease and touch whenever she wanted. It was better than scouting or gorging on the deliciously sweet first maize, ten times better and more!
She let her fingers play with his warrior’s braid, now a stiff thing that needed to be washed and redone, most of its decorations gone.
“You sleep now. Until the medicine. Until my brother comes back.”
He barely nodded, his exhaustion and pain taking over, his smile flickering weakly, but still there, still glimmering, washing her with its warmth. Caressing his shoulder, she curbed the temptation to let her fingers wander on. Later, when he felt better, she promised herself; there would be plenty of time for that.
“Rest now. No worry. I will not leave, never! You can trust. Sleep until I wake you up.”
As he closed his eyes obediently, she let her smile blossom, her happiness soaring. Oh, but she’d take good care of him, and he’d never regret bringing her along.
In the graying mist spreading everywhere, heralding yet another victory of the Father Sun, she could see the bare outline of her brother’s face, the sharp angle of his cheekbones, the dark circles of the eyes. Huddling under the towering rock, hugging her elbows against the coldness of the pre-dawn wind, she wished she could see what his eyes held. His voice was tranquil and his words kind, but she needed more reassurance than that.
“You haven’t gotten much sleep, have you?” she asked, trying to lighten the atmosphere with at least a little small talk.
“No. I haven’t slept for two nights, if you recall.” Again, no malice, no accusation, just the atypical, unperturbed calmness that seemed to warm the night, to make it less realistic.
“Yes, I recall. Akweks, he is getting well, now for certain. He can’t walk, not yet, but he will. He feels good. He eats and drinks and he doesn’t need medicine to make him cool anymore. I talked to him not long ago. He asked me to tell you how grateful he is. He said you are a great healer. Every warrior in this force is aware of what you have done, and they all agreed that only a true medicine man, the one who has the full blessing of the Great Spirits, can do what you did without causing the warrior’s death. They are awed by your skill, Brother, and these people are all hardened warriors, not easily impressed. Oh, it makes me so proud to tell them that you are my brother!”
She could feel his smile. Starting with the depths of his eyes, it spread, smoothing the frown, enlivening his face, straightening his shoulders, as it never did before. Unable to see any of it, she still knew it for certain, and it warmed her insides as well.
“They said all that?”
Grinning at the pretended i
ndifference—he could try to fool anyone but her—she shook her head. “What do you think?”
“I don’t know what to think, not since you made me question everything I knew for a truth.”
Her happiness fled. “Yes, I know.”
The silence prevailed once again, not heavy or pressing, but not as comfortable as before.
“I talked to him.”
The calmness of his words misled her into keeping her peace for another heartbeat, before the meaning of what he said reached her.
Her heart lurched. “You did? What did you tell him?”
He kept peering at the river and the figures moving about, dragging their boats into the shallow water.
“I told him who I am and what I intend to do.”
“You did?” Unable to keep still, she caught his arm, feeling it cold but firm, not listless or limp as before. “How did he take it?”
His chuckle held no mirth. “What do you think?”
“Badly.”
Another long pause.
“I will be living with the old healer now. He agreed to take me in, to teach me the ways of the spirits. He is the kindest man I know.”
“He always loved you. He knew what your true purpose was. Hasn’t he been teaching you, or letting you learn, against Father’s clearly expressed wishes? For moons and summers he did this. He believes in you, just like I do. But he doesn’t have proof, while I do have it.” She wished he could see what his eyes held. Oh, but she would miss him! “You will be the greatest medicine man, the greatest spiritual leader that people of our village could ever have. I know that much!”
“Since when do you deal in prophesies, little sister?” But again, she knew that his lightness was not real.
Their attention caught by the voices of the warriors shouting to each other, coordinating their actions, they let the silence hang.
“You won’t be here to see it, will you?” he said, and this time, his voice held no pretended indifference.
She shook her head, unable to talk for a moment, choked with grief. Oh, but what would she do without him, the man she had known all her life, such a huge part of it? What if she didn’t see him again, ever?