Freeing Nivaka

by Leslie E Heath

  16

  Announcement

  Valasa tended to each of the men’s wounds and made sure they each ate at least a few bites of breakfast before he vanished into his study.

  The door clicked shut behind the large man, and Alija sank into the plush blue chair by the fireplace. The warmth of the fire and the comfortable chair lulled him to sleep.

  “All right.” Valasa’s booming voice startled Alija awake, and he blinked at the large healer. “Are we ready to tell the people they’re free?”

  “Wait. What?” The fog of sleep slowed Alija’s mind, and he worked to figure out what was happening.

  For some reason, Valasa had donned his ceremonial robes, and the layers of green fabric flowed around the massive man when he walked to the door.

  “Well?” Valasa grinned and opened the door. “Let’s go.”

  Dalan, Kai, and Wayra followed the Gadonu to the door. Alija pushed himself out of the chair and joined the procession.

  In the square, people milled about in large groups, murmuring amongst themselves. A few glanced up at the group leaving Valasa’s home, but most kept their backs to the procession. The words “free,” and “dead,” mingled with the names of Alija and his friends.

  “I have an announcement to make. To the Pavilion!” Valasa’s booming voice rattled the leaves and Alija’s head alike.

  The Gadonu moved through the crowd with a grace that belied his size and age, and Alija struggled to move his aching legs fast enough to keep up. When they reached the Pavilion, Valasa led them onto the dais at the front of the space.

  Alija’s eyes strayed to the shackles attached to the half-wall, and his stomach churned again. Slowly, he raised his head and took in the gathering crowd. Confusion, worry, and fear dominated the closest faces, though a few smiled up at him. When people packed every available space in the Pavilion, Valasa raised his hands over his head.

  “These young men have done us a great service. While we all slept, they took on Tavan’s forces and have freed us from his brutal reign.” Valasa’s booming voice echoed off the high roof, and a stunned silence fell over the crowd.

  “What do we do now?” an old man shouted from the back of the Pavilion. “You know his leader will send someone else! Someone worse!”

  A chorus of agreement rumbled through the assembly until Valasa raised his hands.

  To Alija’s surprise, the people fell silent.

  “Of course, we have more to do, but we can face whatever threat Helak sends our way. They can’t sneak up on us again. We’re crafty, we’re strong, and now, we’re free.”

  The villagers cheered, but it wasn’t as enthusiastic as Alija would have liked. Mostly, they still looked confused and worried.

  Valasa continued as if they hadn’t made a sound. “For now, there’s a big mess to clean up, so we’ll need everyone to pitch in to help get our village back to its normal beauty.”

  He waited for the murmurs to subside and raised his hands again. “The first decision we need to make together is both simple and complex. Shall we hold a ceremony for the fallen soldiers? Or burn their bodies in a pyre without one?”

  Icy horror ran through Alija at the thought of refusing a funeral ceremony for anyone—even the awful guards and soldiers that had beaten Kai so severely. Without the ritual, the guards’ spirits would be trapped and would burn along with their bodies. He lowered his eyes to the faces in the crowd and considered.

  Perhaps it would be best to keep their spirits from returning.

  “They don’t need no ceremony,” a woman in the middle of the crowd yelled. “Burn ‘em without freeing them. Keep ‘em from coming back for us.”

  “She’s right,” a man shouted.

  All at once, everyone in the crowded Pavilion shouted, and though Alija couldn’t make out many individual words through the cacophony, he understood their meaning. Everyone agreed with the woman, including Alija.

  Valasa raised his hands once more, and the crowd quieted. “Does anyone disagree? This is your chance to be heard.”

  A small bird chirped in the Pavilion’s high rafters. At the back of the space, someone coughed.

  “It is settled, then. We will use the carts to carry their bodies to the river. It may take a few days to burn them all. If you want to assist, come find me. Carpenters, I need your help with the hoists, so we can get them into the carts.”

  Before Valasa had finished speaking, the crowd broke. Some villagers clustered in groups, talking amongst themselves, while others took off with determined strides, apparently bent on their task.

  The day passed in a flurry of activity, and Alija struggled to keep up. Fatigue and guilt weighted his arms and legs, and his ribs ached with every breath. Still, he worked to help his father and their teammates run the hoists and lower the soldiers’ bodies into the carts waiting below. As the day wore on, his overused muscles screamed in agony, but he refused to let go of the rope. When they raised the hoist to load more bodies, his father grabbed his arm.

  “Why don’t you go home and get some rest? You’re dead on your feet.”

  Alija barely had the energy to nod, so he murmured, “yes, sir,” and trudged back toward the Square and the waiting comfort of his bed.

  17

  Coping

  Alija slept through dinner, waking to the gray light of dawn the next morning. Every movement hurt, so he tried to stretch his complaining muscles. Before he’d made it halfway through the stretches, his stomach snarled so loudly he worried he’d wake his family. With slow, painful movements, he dressed and descended the back stairs to the kitchen. Cook would have something started by now.

  “There he is! I was starting to wonder if you were going to wake up at all.” Cook tucked her towel into the apron at her ample bosom and ushered Alija into a chair. “Let me get you some famanc. Here, I made your favorite cakes for supper last night, but of course, you were too tired to eat. That’s all right, though. They keep well enough. You can have several now.”

  She bustled around the kitchen as she chattered, plopping a mug of steaming famanc and a tray of cakes on the table in front of him.

  “You’re the talk of the town, now, you know? You and your friends. Half the village turned out in the Square to watch the sun come up this morning, just ’cause we could. We didn’t even mind the wind.”

  Alija smiled. She apparently didn’t want or need a response, because she just kept talking. Her normal brusque manner had been replaced with a grin and happy patter while she wiped counters and stirred a pot of something cooking over the fire.

  “Yep, it’s sure good to be free. I’m not even gonna worry about whether or not more are coming. Now that we expect them, we can fight them off. We didn’t get rid of the soldiers’ weapons, so we got more than enough for everyone. Did you know they had whole rooms full of spears and swords in the old mayor’s house—the one where Tavan lived? Of course, you did,” she carried on without pausing for a breath. “You were in there, weren’t you? Do you want another cup?” She picked up his empty mug and waited.

  “Yes, please.” He hadn’t finished the second word before she started prattling again.

  Focusing on the smooth flavor of the famanc, Alija tuned out the older woman’s rambling. He needed to meet with Valasa and the others that day. He hoped, anyway. Valasa might be busy with the pyres, and Dalan would help his father until they finished.

  Wayra and Kai weren’t likely to be busy, though, so he finished his breakfast and headed to Wayra’s house. His mother ushered Alija through the door.

  “Good morning. You look like you’re moving about as well as the others. They’re all in the kitchen, eating.” She took his cloak and handed it to the young housekeeper. “You can join them there.”

  Frowning, Alija nodded.

  He moved as quickly as his aching legs would carry him down the hall and sighed when he stepped into the warm light of the kitchen. Kai, Dalan, and Wayra sat at the wide butcher-block table sipping famanc and demolishi
ng a plate of quail and apples.

  Alija eased himself into the chair beside Kai and forced a smile. “What’re you all doing up so early?”

  “Couldn’t sleep.”

  “Too sore.”

  “Nightmares.”

  They all spoke at once, and Alija couldn’t tell for sure who’d said what.

  “We should probably talk about everything, right?” Alija choked out a laugh. “I mean, I’m not sure how to deal with everything, but we’re in this together, right?”

  He glanced around the table, alarmed by the blank stares he received from his friends. He opened his mouth to say more but shut it again when Valasa’s broad form filled the doorway.

  “Yes, you need to talk about it. I came to see how you’re all doing. It’s not an easy thing, what you did, but you’ll be celebrated as heroes by the villagers.”

  Kai visibly flinched at the word “heroes,” and Alija’s stomach churned. He couldn’t get the sight of the barracks rooms out of his head.

  “There’s a whole list of problems warriors have after a battle, and those are people who train for years to face that situation. I expect you’ll all struggle a bit more since you didn’t have anyone to prepare you for it.”

  Alija fought a wave of nausea but shook his head. “Really, I’m all right. I’m more worried about what happens now. You know they’ll send more.”

  “We have some time before that happens. Tavan sent off a messenger just three days ago, so he won’t be expected to check in again for a few months.” Valasa’s voice softened. “For now, let’s work on getting you over the shock of battle.”

  “With all due respect, sir,” Kai said, his face ruddy and wet, “It’s not the battles I’m struggling with. I can deal okay with the ones that fought back. I’m even okay with killing Tavan, since he was awake and fighting. But, how do I get over the fact that I killed all those men in their sleep?”

  Valasa settled onto the stool at the end of the table. “What would those men have done if you hadn’t? If you’d waited until they all woke up, or allowed one to sound the alarm?”

  “They would have killed us all,” Alija murmured. “We couldn’t let them have that chance.”

  “Exactly.” Valasa poured himself a mug of famanc and refilled Kai’s cup. “Each time that memory crosses your mind—and that will probably be a lot in these early days—just remind yourself that you had no other choice.”

  Hot tears stung Alija’s eyes. He hadn’t planned for this, wasn’t ready to talk about it. Blinking furiously, he downed the rest of his drink and reached for an apple slice.

  “You don’t have to do everything right now. It’ll take some time for this to all start to make sense.” Valasa gulped the famanc and wiped the back of his hand over his mouth. “For now, take a few days to let yourselves heal. You can stay here, or at my place, or wherever you’re most comfortable, but I’d recommend staying together and out of sight.”

  “Why should we hide? We have nothing to be ashamed of.” Dalan slapped a hand on the table. “We did what needed doing, and we should be proud of ourselves.” He glanced over at Kai and Alija. “All of us.”

  Alija dropped his gaze to his lap, swallowing hard against the sudden lump in his throat.

  “Yes, but different people handle things differently,” Valasa said, his voice soft. “And you need to be there for each other and let your physical wounds heal, too. You’re right; you have nothing to be ashamed of. The villagers will be waiting to hail you as heroes when you’re ready.”

  With that, the enormous Gadonu ducked through the doorway and disappeared down the hall, leaving the friends to finish their breakfast in silence.

  Alija watched him go, grateful for his guidance. They’d need it even more in the days to come.

  About the Author

  Leslie E. Heath lives in rural North Carolina with her husband, children, and an unsettlingly large number of rescue pets. She enjoys writing, which is important because she plans to do a lot more of it. When she’s not writing, she enjoys spending time at the beach, training for and competing in long-distance running events, and working as a registered nurse.

  The Last Mayor’s Son is Heath’s publishing debut and the first volume of a trilogy.Visit her webpage at: www.LeslieEHeath.com