Though I tried not to think about it, seeing my sister in her current state, long limbs swaying without resistance, scared me more than her prophetic statement about the world’s impending destruction.
I started walking toward the afflicted townspeople. The moans of pain had died down to dull groans. Two people managed to sit up. One had the strength to lift his head and meet my stare. I doubt he knew who he was looking at as his eyes rolled around in his head. He blinked rapidly trying to focus.
I maneuvered my way back onto Main Street. More people lay on the ground, dazed and hurting. I ignored them and made my way toward the inn.
About a hundred feet from the inn’s door, I shifted Ava in my arms. Her swinging limbs grew more cumbersome with each step. Thankfully, she had always been on the lean side. Her head rolled around a bit as I hoisted her higher, exchanging the strain in my back for burning in my arms.
Stepping off the dirt street and onto the wooden sidewalk, my boots resonated over the whimpers of a middle-aged man from across the street slumped against the wall to the theater. Vomit covered his shirt. A puddle between his legs leaked between the sidewalk’s boards. He strained to extend an arm toward me. I ignored him.
Molak cut me a break for once. The door to the inn was slightly ajar. I swung it open with the toe of my boot.
Inside, a fire crackling brightly in a large hearth against the back wall cut the cold from the autumn breeze outside. However, after the exertion of carrying Ava I quickly grew uncomfortable.
Maroon-colored, plush chairs surrounded three round tables in the center of the space with matching curtains over the window. Oil lamps hung over three paintings on the walls.
I didn’t see any patrons or employees. The silence in the space felt unnatural. A faint whine came from the left. With Ava still in my arms, I avoided a large oaken chest and stepped behind the counter.
Slumped on the floor with his back against a wall, sat a thin, light-haired man, face absent of even the slightest of stubble. He wore clothes more refined than what was common. Based on dress and location, I took him for the inn’s manager.
“Hey, I need a room.”
His head flopped to the side and his eyes rolled up. His lips moved, but nothing came out.
I swore.
I had no clue what rooms were available. I guess I could have just walked upstairs and busted into the first room I came across, kicking any current occupant out. However, I figured why borrow more trouble.
Squatting down, I eased Ava to the floor. I relished the sudden relief to my arms, shoulders, and back.
“Hey, can you talk at all? I need a room,” I repeated while reaching out a hand.
The man’s unfocused gaze continued to slide around the room until I touched his arm. He gasped for air and blinked rapidly. I pulled my hand away in surprise at such a fast response. He started to tumble over in a groan. I grabbed his arm to catch him, feeling a shirt damp with sweat. His eyes widened and his breathing picked up. I helped him sit straighter and within moments, his condition seemed drastically improved.
“What . . . happened?” he asked.
Trying to explain my hunch about the Geneshan artifact would be lost on the man. “Something big. Most in town are as bad as you.”
He looked me over, brow furrowed. “But not you?”
I shrugged. “Lucky, I guess. Look, I need a room. Do you have one available?”
He blinked hard, still trying to clear the cobwebs. “Just the suite. Top floor.” A deep breath. “Two bedrooms and a sitting area.”
“I’ll take it,” I said thinking the room’s size would be ideal when the others caught up. “Where’s the key?”
“I’ll get it,” he said, starting to rise.
I let him go, and he immediately dropped to one knee. My other hand reflexively left Ava as both darted out to steady the innkeeper. “You all right?”
“Yeah, sorry. I’m better now. It’s weird but when you let me go, I felt sick again. Not as bad as before, but enough to make me dizzy.”
“Just tell me where the key is and I’ll get it.”
“Top drawer of that cabinet,” he said, pointing. “It’ll be marked.”
I started to rise when a commotion on the floor started behind me. Turning, I saw that Ava had begun to shake again, her boots clicking on the wooden boards. I rushed back to her. The moment I touched her, the trembling ceased.
“Is . . . she all right?” the innkeeper asked.
“I’m not sure.” I frowned, having noticed the quivering in his voice. He had slumped against the wall again.
“Are you feeling bad again?”
He nodded. “Some.”
“Reach over and touch me.”
“Huh?”
“Just do it.”
The innkeeper scooted over gingerly and extended an arm. My eyes never left his face as I felt him wrap his fingers around my wrist. His face gradually gained more color.
“That’s strange. I’m feeling better again.” His eyes widened. “Are you a priest? A healer? What gods do you serve?”
I snorted. “I don’t serve any gods. And I’m not a healer.”
“But how—”
The door to the inn opened, cutting off the question.
“Where in the name of Xank did he go?” I heard Ira mutter.
“Behind the counter,” I called out.
They came around the side carrying far more from the wagon than I thought they’d be able to manage. Myra and Zadok still had a hand on Ira and Dekar. Both looked better.
“What are you doing back there, Pa?” asked Zadok.
I quickly explained the last couple minutes. Then I decided to test how well everyone was recovering. I had Myra let go of Dekar to fetch the key to the suite for me. I had a suspicion that my kids’ resistance wasn’t as strong as mine based on their comment about headaches. Still, I expected Dekar to be further along than before.
“How do you feel?” I asked Dekar.
“Not as bad as earlier. Groggy though. Like I just woke up.”
I nodded. “The symptoms lessen the longer you’re in contact with someone who has a resistance. They’ll probably go away all together before long.”
Dekar looked at Ava and frowned. “So, because of your sister’s connection to sorcery, it’s harder on her.”
“Possibly. It’s as good a guess as anything.”
It meant I wasn’t leaving her side.
Myra found the key and led the way upstairs. I picked Ava up and we followed. The extra time the innkeeper had in contact with me seemed to do him wonders. He managed to keep his feet under him without assistance before we left. With a clearer mind, he became panicky as he thought of his family. He disappeared through a swinging door in search of them.
The suite ended up bigger than I had expected. We entered through a sitting room that separated two bedrooms. It held a wood burning stove, a small table, and enough chairs for four people. The floor space provided enough room for rolls to be laid out for those not sleeping in beds.
I didn’t linger and headed for the bedroom on the right with Ava.
A four-poster bed with white sheets sat against one wall—nightstand and a sitting chair flanking it. A window looked out from the wall across from the bed. Under normal circumstances, I imagined sunlight streaming into the space. The only thing visible now was a murky gray interrupted by the faint, orange, red, and purple sitting over the land in the distance. A dresser stood to the right of the window. A chamber pot on the left.
I was reminded that the room was twice as large as my old bedroom on the farm. I had always promised Lasha I would get a place like this for a night or two when we had the money and the time.
Another promise I’d never fulfill.
Myra followed me into the bedroom. She pulled the sheets back as I lay Ava down on the bed. Keeping one hand on her shoulder, I started pulling the sheets up.
“Wait.” Myra closed the door.
“What’s wrong?”
“Shouldn’t we undress her? No telling how long she’ll be out and we don’t want her soiling her clothes.”
“I didn’t even consider that.”
I made a move to slip off her robes and then froze as it suddenly struck me what I was about to do. I hadn’t seen Ava without clothes since we were children sharing a bath.
We weren’t exactly kids anymore.
It may sound dumb considering Ava’s circumstances, but the idea of undressing my sister made me uneasy. Still, it needed to happen.
I gritted my teeth and began to pull one of her arms through the sleeve of her robe.
Myra must have noticed the difficulty I was having, both mentally and physically, as I kept one of my hands in contact with Ava’s body at all times, worried the shaking would return.
She walked over. “Let me do it. Just focus on staying in contact with her.”
I nodded. “Thanks. For multiple reasons.”
She shook her head and muttered. “All of them obvious.”
Myra got Ava’s robes and the leathers worn underneath off quickly before drawing the sheets over her body. She searched the drawers of the dresser and as luck would have it found a suitable bed pan to slip underneath Ava.
Relatively safe inside our room, the potential of losing my sister struck me again.
I swallowed hard. I loved my kids and couldn’t have been happier to have them back in my life. However, with Lasha’s death, no one knew me better than Ava. There’s something to be said for the connection you share with your sibling. No one else gets to see you at your best and worst as you enter and exit each phase of your life like they do.
“Tyrus!”
I sat up to Dekar’s voice. “Yeah?”
He entered the doorway. “That innkeeper is at the door. He wants to see you.”
“Why?”
“He says his daughter is really bad off. He’s worried she’s going to die.”
I could hear the innkeeper arguing with Ira about coming inside to talk to me. I knew he wouldn’t win that argument.
“I’m not leaving Ava.”
Dekar nodded. “I’ll tell him.”
“Wait,” said Myra. “Why can’t you help him?”
I gave her a sour look, one because of how guilty I suddenly felt having to face the question, and two because her asking it surprised me. “I thought Zadok was supposed to be the one with the high morals in the family now.”
“I’m serious, Tyrus.”
“I’m not leaving Ava. Too much can happen.”
“Let me take care of her. You already said I have a resistance too.”
“It’s not as strong as mine.”
She turned toward the door. “Zadok! Grab a chair and come in here!”
The boy came running in holding one of the chairs from the sitting room. “Yeah?”
“Go sit on the other side of Aunt Ava and put your hand on her arm.” Myra faced me. “Together we should be able to come close to matching your resistance, right?”
Zadok did as his sister said.
I grimaced. “I don’t know. It’s all a guess at this point.”
“We could go help instead,” Zadok offered.
“No. I don’t want you two running off without me. You can stay here with Ira and Dekar. That way I’ll know where you are and that you’re safe.”
“So that means you’re willing to give my idea a chance?” Myra asked. “It shouldn’t take but a moment.”
“A lot can happen in a moment,” I said, still not ready to give in. “Besides, why do you care so much about the innkeeper’s daughter?”
“Because she’s just a child. Completely innocent. Unlike the rest of this town.”
She had me there.
“All right. We’ll test things out.” I stood. “Take my seat. Put a hand on her. If I let go and nothing visibly changes, I’ll see to the innkeeper’s daughter. If anything negative happens, I’m staying.”
Myra did as I said. I slowly lifted my hand, one finger at a time. My eyes drifted from Ava’s face to her chest, and back again, looking for any sign of change. Nothing happened.
I grunted. “I guess you were right.”
“Then hurry and go,” said Myra. “The girl needs your help.”
“Don’t worry, Pa. We’ve got it,” said Zadok.
“All right.” Passing by Dekar on the way to the door, I told him. “If her condition changes at all, you come and grab me, understand?”
He nodded.
By the time I got to the door, the innkeeper was literally jumping up and down. To Ira’s credit, he hadn’t laid the man out, despite his frantic behavior. The innkeeper saw me and started rambling at such speeds I only understood maybe every third word. The gist of it was that he would give me anything I wanted or do anything I desired so long as I came to look at his little girl.
“Take me to her.”
He reached inside the doorway, latched onto my arm like a vice, and started dragging me through the hallway toward the stairs.
In the midst of everything, I managed to get his name.
Boaz brought me to the basement, past several sacks of flower and barrels of ale. In a corner, sat his wife and daughter next to a tray of spilled limes.
“They were down here getting supplies for the kitchen when whatever happened, happened,” he said.
His wife, Dinah, looked rough, but she at least was awake, even having enough strength to lay a hand on her daughter who quivered unconsciously next to her. The lucidity of Boaz’s wife had me adding to my theory that although my resistance to sorcery would heal people faster, many might get better on their own. It would just probably take them longer.
I kneeled next to the young girl, probably around eight, and placed both my hands on her. I felt a slight vibration, common when my resistance drew away sorcery. Her shuddering ceased.
“Hold your wife up and put her hands on me while I stay in contact with your daughter,” I said.
Boaz quickly obeyed. His wife’s breathing improved significantly. “You too,” I told him. “I can tell you still aren’t completely recovered.”
He touched my other shoulder.
“Thank you,” Boaz’s wife whispered between quiet sobs. She chanced removing one hand from my shoulder to stroke her daughter’s cheek. “Why is she so worse off than us? Is it because she’s so young?”
“Possibly.” I glanced over to Boaz. “Does she have any talent?”
He gave me a look. “Talent?”
“You know, sorcery?”
“By the gods, no,” said the wife, appalled that I would even suggest such a thing.
I ignored her and stared at Boaz, waiting for his response.
“None that we know of.”
“What about a penchant for good luck? Predicting the weather? Anything odd like that?”
Boaz grunted. “She’s always had a way with animals. It seems they do whatever she tells them to, wild or not. Why?”
“Because only my sister acted anywhere near as bad as her and that’s probably because she’s a mage. Your daughter might have some hidden talent you aren’t aware of.”
“Don’t say that!” Boaz’s wife began to cry harder at that news than she had before. “What will we do?”
I thought about all the hardships Ava had suffered during her life—the looks, the names, the ridicule. . . . The tone of horror this little girl’s mom held in her voice for her daughter made me sick. My initial inclination was to slap her. In the end, I opted for a more tactful approach.
“What’s your daughter’s name?”
“Abigail.”
I stared at Abigail’s innocent face. Smooth skin framed with long brown hair.
“This is what you’re going to do,” I began. With head down, my voice took on the quality I used in the military when disciplining a member of my unit. “When Abigail comes around, you’re going to tell her how much you love her and that she means everything in the world to you. Then you’re going t
o protect her and raise her as you had before. You’re not going to make her self-conscious of her talent and you sure aren’t going to make her ashamed of it. If she has questions, you’ll help the best that you can. If you can’t help her, then you’re going to find someone who can. In the end, you’ll let her make her own decisions regarding her gift once she’s old enough.” I looked up and shifted my stare between Boaz and his wife. “Am I clear?”
Boaz nodded. “Yes, of course. All of that goes without saying.”
Dinah seemed embarrassed. “I didn’t mean that—”
“I don’t care what you meant,” I said. “I’m just telling you how things better be.”
No one said anything after that. I might have been harsher than needed, but I had enough of the “better than you” attitude I had been witness to since leaving the army.
I lost track of time, but eventually Abigail came around. By the time she did, Boaz and Dinah were no longer showing any symptoms. Seeing their genuine relief and love at Abigail’s recovery, eased the bitterness I had from earlier.
“We can’t thank you enough,” said Boaz.
“Don’t worry about it.”
“No, my husband’s right. Thank you,” said Dinah.
“You and your family can have the suite for as long as you like, free of charge. It’s the least I can do,” added the innkeeper.
I nodded. “I appreciate that. Don’t take offense by me saying I hope our stay isn’t long. It would be in everyone’s best interest if we were on our way as soon as my sister recovers. Maybe tomorrow, if we’re lucky.”
We still had to contend with the rest of town should they come around and chances were they’d be upset with Boaz for helping us.
“I understand.” He paused. “You know, not everyone is as bad as you might think us. Not everyone thinks you and your friends are monsters because of the war. I never held that view.”
“I appreciate that, but it does seem to be the most popular opinion.”
He sighed. “Sadly, it is. Probably because it is the opinion of Jareb and few people are brave enough to disagree with him.”
“Some things never change,” I muttered. “Thank you again for the room. I need to go check on my sister.”
* * *
Forgotten Soldiers (Book 1) Page 21