by Karen Dales
That was all that it took. The man fled back down the road in which he and his followers had come.
The boy stared through the curtain of pounding rain, his chest heaving not with exertion, but with the release of years of pent up anger. He had not expected the man to run and a part of him wanted to go after him, but he knew it would be foolish to do so. Fighting to gain control and put down the rage, the boy’s body shook.
Lighting cut through the storm. Following on its heels, the crackling and resounding boom shook the ground. The boy paid no attention to the sound, but stared at the shattered ash sword as the rain washed red blood and human offal down around his white hand to drip onto the ground. Raindrops of blood swirled into oblivion with the crystal clean water from the sky.
He had killed.
He did not know what to feel.
He did not know what shocked him more.
Fulfill the covenant.
The voice of his nightmares resonated through the woods and throbbed in his mind. Never before had he heard Them when awake. His breath caught as his eyes shot around in panic, expecting that somewhere in the darkness they were watching him.
Fulfill the covenant, came the voice more urgently.
Spinning around, sodden white strands of hair whipped his face. Ruined wooden sword in hand, his gaze fell upon the injured woman sitting on the soaked earth, clutching her baby to her bare breasts. She rocked as she tried to sooth her child, ignoring her own hurts, kissing the top of the baby’s head while staring up at him. Fear and awe peered at him through summer green eyes.
It was then he realized they were all soaked to the skin in the pounding rain. Even through the metallic odour in the air he could smell the sweet smell of blood that oozed from her cut lip and swollen eye. Its scent intoxicated him, pulled at him.
Fulfill the covenant! The voice urged.
He had fed well tonight but something drew him, calling him to take her, to end her pain by drawing it within himself.
Yessssss.
It was the creatures from his nightmares. They were the ones who were pulling him. He shook his head in denial as he stared down at mother and child. He felt the ash in his hand compress and crack under pressure. He knew what these creatures wanted from him.
Fulfill the covenant, the voices cried out angrily, urging him to do the unspeakable.
He would not take this woman’s life or the life of her child. Throwing the blood-splattered ruin of his wooden sword, he heard it splash in the wet grass and slide. He turned away from the woman, shuddering at the effort it took to do so. He would not kill her as the creatures demanded and he took an unsteady step away.
The itchy tingling feeling along his skin was back. Dawn was not far off. He had to get back. In this world he knew he had control, or at least hoped so. He would not do what the creatures wanted.
Noooooooooooo!
The voice faded in defeat, but left its imprint on the boy’s soul. They had come while he was awake and that terrified him more than the thought of doing their bidding.
He did not want to contemplate the meaning of their intrusion into his waking life. Every night he dreamt them, waking in cold sweats. He knew Notus was aware of these almost daily occurrences. How could he not when he cried out? He never told Notus the nature of the nightmares. Notus never asked. What was he to do now that they were in his waking life?
Closing his eyes and taking a deep breath, he managed to calm down. He had killed and They were now in his waking life. Everything had changed in the blink of an eye. He wondered what new nightmares he would have come morning. He did not relish the thought, but it was high time he headed home.
The rain made it difficult to see where the path was to lead him back to the cave, but a flash of lightning revealed the muddy track. Scratching at his arm, he walked over to it. Despite the thick clouds pouring down on him, he did not want to get stuck outside when the sun finally rose.
“Please.”
The plaintive cry came from behind him, from the woman with the baby. He halted. He had almost forgotten about her.
“Please, my lord,” she sobbed.
He turned around to face her. She still sat, a pool of water surrounding her. The infant lay nuzzled against her. Stray auburn strands were plastered against her pale and drawn face. Her green eyes glimmered in pain and desperation.
“Help me, if not for me, but for my daughter?” Tears mixed with rain.
He gasped. Her pain and her need confused him. His beaten in instinct about strangers drew his back up straight, afraid of what she could possibly do now that she knew about his existence. Maybe They were right. But what could she do? He had to get back now to escape the oncoming dawn.
“I don’t want to die out here.”
Her pain pierced his heart as surely as her green eyes touched his soul and he knew he could not leave her here. He took the few steps towards her and tentatively held out his hand. The touch of her warmth on him electrified him as he gently pulled her to stand, but before she could fully make it all the way up she cried out and buckled. Without a thought, he scooped her and the babe at her breast into his arms.
Surprised at his own boldness, her head leaning against his shoulder, he could only stare into her liquid eyes. Her warmth flowed over and through him, and her scent beyond the blood that washed off her face was clean and intoxicating. He tried to imagine what she would look like without the injuries to her face and thought she could be beautiful, but he had no real point of reference. Just having her so close and touching him brought more feelings he never realized he had to the surface.
A sad smile flittered across her ruined face. “I’m ready to go to your fairy realms, my lord.” She sighed, closed her eyes and snuggled in closer against his shoulder. Her baby hugged to her breast.
He watched her breathing deepen into the steady rhythm of sleep. Disturbed by her assumption of his nature, he fleetingly thought to place her back down on the cold and soggy grass.
The tingling along his arms was more insistent and he could feel the same along the exposed parts of his legs, feet and face. He had to get back and having chosen to help he found the path that would lead back to the cave.
Chapter XI
The glade opened up beyond the trees. He could hardly make anything out through his sore and swollen eyes. The sun had come up behind steel grey clouds. He had tried to get back as fast as he could, but he did not want to risk slipping on the mud-churned trails and dropping his charges. Even under the heavy rain soaked leaves of the thick trees there was enough light to make his skin redden.
The cold rain did nothing to halt the burning of his flesh and nor did the water give any relief to the pain. It did not take long for his skin to blister and crack, peeling to reveal more bright red skin already burning at the faint touch of sunlight. Every part of him was aflame. All he wanted to do was get into the cave and, if the Goddess was merciful, die.
Now he stood at the edge of the open expanse with the woman and baby still cradled in his burning arms. The rain pounded down, the lightning storm fading in the distance. Goddess help him, he could not see well enough where to go. Everything was a blind wash of light that brought stabbing pain to his eyes. Shuddering, he tried to swallow the rough dryness in his mouth and took a step from the shelter of the trees.
He gasped. Light flared around him, scorching his skin, literally cooking the meat off his bones. He could almost believe that the rain sizzled against his flesh, impotent in providing relief. The rain lashed his hair against his ravaged face and shoulders, making it feel as though they were slicing into his skin. It was all too much.
Through squinted and inflamed eyes he looked down at the woman in his arms. He knew he could not carry her any longer. His strength was going. He had come so far only to fail just mere steps from his home. “Please wake up,” he whispered hoarsely, his voice almost unrecognizable to himself. If she could wake up and stand on her own, maybe then he could make it to the cave.
She stirred and attempted to stretch. It was enough to unbalance him and he dropped to his knees, splashing in the cold wet grass. Miraculously, he still managed to hold onto mother and baby, but the lightning pain of the impact brought an involuntary gasp.
There was no way he could make it back to the cave.
A cold hand gripped his shoulder. It could not be the woman. She was still in his arms. At least he thought she was. He could no longer feel his arms. Panting in pain, he could hardly make out the hooded figure before him.
“Dear God,” whispered Notus, “I’ve been so worried about you.”
If it had not so painful, he would have laughed in relief.
“Take her,” he croaked.
“I already have her in the cave.”
He shook his head and thought better. His skin cracked and peeled at the movement. When had Notus done that?
Strong arms lifted him to his feet and then supporting him around the waist, Notus brought him in out of the brutal faded sunlight and the torrential rain.
The relief of the dark cave was glorious and he collapsed onto his pallet, panting, his eyes closed. He was so incredibly tired. All he wanted to do was sleep. He did not care that he soaked his bedclothes with rainwater. The agony would not let him sleep. He had healed from the other burn he would heal from this one too – he hoped.
Through the haze of pain he could make out voices. He prayed they were not from his nightmares. Then he recognized Notus’ calming tones. It seemed that the woman was awake and Notus was discovering her story as he checked her injuries and those to the baby.
He could comprehend some of what they said to each other and only made out her name when Notus addressed her by it. Tarian. He also heard that she and her baby, Beti, were traveling from the coast after her husband fell to raiders. She was hoping to flee the horrors on the west coast by going inland. It was on her journey with the others that she gave birth. That was only a fortnight ago. He could hear her sobs as she told of how raiders came and cut down the caravan she travelled with. He could not make out how she managed to survive. Everything was slipping from consciousness. Trusting she was telling of how he found her, he sighed, surrendering to the quiet of sleep.
A gloved hand touched his face pulling him to the twilight between wakefulness and sleep. He did not bother to open his eyes. He doubted they would respond. Every part of him felt heavy and incapable of movement.
“I’ll be back as soon as I can,” he heard Notus whisper close to his ear. “I need to take Tarian and her daughter to someone better versed at healing. You did well, my son. I’m proud of you.”
But was not it daytime, even with the rainstorm?
A flutter of panic caught him, comprehending that Notus was about to go out and be burnt as well. He tried to push himself up so as to stop his Chooser. The hand moved down to his shoulder, pinning him to his bed. He was too exhausted to resist.
“It’s okay, my son. I’ve done this before,” stated the monk as if sensing his concerns. “I will be alright. Just sleep.”
The hand disappeared to be replaced by a soft cool gentle touch.
The feather soft touch disappeared and he snuggled deeper, finally surrendering to the oblivion that called to him, content that he had chosen right.
It felt so good to stand under the raging waterfall. The cold water poured over him as he scrubbed his skin raw with handfuls of sand. Dry dead skin sloughed off, leaving sensitive red flesh that quickly faded to his natural whiteness. Scooping up another handful of rough sand beside the precarious ledge he stood on, the boy worked the abrading earth into his scalp and long white hair. He had awakened at dusk itching all over, his skin peeling. Scratching his arms had broken off flakes and he knew he had to do something about it. Now he luxuriated under the waterfall as he allowed the sand and water to wash him clean.
It had been quite some time since he had enough privacy to bathe. Notus’ time away worried the boy, but he also counted it a blessing. Now he could finally get clean. Lifting his head so the brunt of the waterfall’s force surged down his face, he brushed back his hair with his fingers then tilted his head forward to let the water shower down his back. It felt so good, so contrary from the burning agony he had experienced that morning. He shuddered at the memory and quickly dismissed it. He just hoped that Notus was all right.
His memory, spotty at best, told him that Notus had been able to go out during the day before, but the boy could not fathom how that was possible. The flakes of blackened and burnt skin was testament enough of how even a little bit of sunlight could cause damage to his kind. He smiled at that thought. Now he was part of something more. He was not different anymore.
Carefully stepping from the waterfall, revelling in how clean he finally felt, the boy made his way back to the grassy bank where he left his dirty clothes under the ancient willow. He did not have enough time to clean and dry his shirt and kilt, but at least something was better than nothing and he sat down beside the clothing to let his body dry. Scooping a thick handful of hair, he began to pick and comb through the knots. Runnels of water ran down his chest and abdomen from his waist length hair. It would take time to get the bulk of the tangles out, giving him time to think.
Images of the woman he rescued flittered to mind. Visions of her attack played through. She had been badly hurt and that was why Notus had to take her to someone else, but that brought up the question of whom Notus knew in these parts. They had been together almost constantly since the night he was Chosen. A flutter of worry crawled up from his belly. What would Notus say to those he took the girl to? Then a more horrifying thought: what would the girl say?
His hair forgotten, the boy stared into the clear summer night, his heart beating rapidly. She had thought he was some fairy lord. What would she think now? And not only that, she now knew where he lived! For the first time the possible repercussions of saving her slammed into him. Gathering his straightened hair at the nape of his neck, he let go, allowing the wetness cloak his back before reaching over to his stained and ratty tunic to pull it over his head. A new worry caught hold of the boy as he stood to wrap the kilt around his slim hips. He had to find Notus.
Stepping out from under the sweeping willow withes, he saw a familiar form enter the glade that was their home. Relief flooded over him. Notus was safe. The boy quickened his pace to meet up with his Chooser; a true smile ignited his eyes.
Notus halted mere paces from him, a shocked expression swept across his face that made the boy frown.
“You’re alright?” asked the monk.
The boy nodded. “You?”
Notus’ brows furrowed together. “What?”
“I was worried.” The flutter gathered more fuel. Notus seemed distracted about something.
Confusion flickered across Notus’ brown eyes before the light of understanding took hold and his mouth made a silent O. “I’m fine,” Notus said absently shaking his head. “Solid gloves, boots and hood give me enough protection during such rainy days. I wouldn’t dare try it when the sun is out. And you? There doesn’t seem to be a mark on you.”
A small smile pulled at the boy’s mouth. “I’m fine.”
“That’s good.” Notus patted the boy’s arm and grinned. “I was worried about you too. Have you fed yet?”
The boy shook his head and realized he was famished.
“Good. Perfect.” Notus glanced back at the direction he had come. “Just what I was hoping.” He regarded the boy for a moment, his face expressionless. “Tonight I think I had better teach you a new lesson.”
He watched Notus turn and head back down the path he had come. It took only a moment before he realized that Notus wanted him to follow. Lengthening his stride, he easily caught up with the short man. It was strange to see Notus so uncommunicative, but the relief of going out hunting together was enough to give the boy a sense of security that everything was going to be all right.
They walked in silence beneath trees weighted with leaves. Night
birds sang to each other, punctuated by the occasional hoot of an owl. Scrabblings and scrapings from the flourish of nightlife filled the air with nature’s music. It probably would not take them long at all to find something in which to feed upon. A snap and a crash off to their right were followed by the sounds of screaming animals fighting for their territory or the right to mate. The boy noted the sounds and continued along the path with Notus.
“You didn’t ask me about Tarian or her baby girl,” Notus said, breaking their silence.
Caught off guard by the question, the boy remained silent. The pressure in the middle of his forehead came back and as quickly dissipated.
Notus halted and sighed. Perplexed he turned to face the young man. “The polite thing would be to ask how they are doing. After all, you were the one who killed their attackers, thus saving them both.”
“How–how are they?” He felt uncomfortable under the scrutinizing gaze of his Chooser. He also did not like how Notus seemed to point out that he had killed. The girl must have told him that. For some strange reason it had not bothered the boy that he had killed the three men. Part of him regretted being unable to go after the fourth one–the one who had hurt the young mother.
“Mother and baby are going to be fine, thanks to you.”
The praise surprised the boy, but he could not discount the dark undertone to Notus’ voice and followed down the trail once Notus turned and continued walking.
It did not take long for them to find suitable prey. Between long thin tree trunks a doe stood chewing on green succulent leaves.
Notus touched his arm and then pointed, indicating that it was the boy’s turn to take down the doe. He did not need to be directed twice, his hunger gripping him, driving him. Swiftly, silently he left Notus’ side, and as quick as lightning he was at the doe’s side and tapped her firmly between her big brown eyes. She dropped, unknowing of what hit her.