As they continued their way down the trail, with Jerron taking the flank this time, he thought back to that first night when they’d forced fruit down her throat and brought her back to consciousness. One of the first things Ol’ Yennit had asked her was about her parents. They were killed by the Blood Lord. She knew his pain. Desirmor had made them both orphans. Cano’s wife and daughter had been killed by the Imperial army as well. And Mueller. The veteran soldier was a man of few words, and rarely spoke of himself, but Jerron had heard things about him. Rumor held around the estate that Mueller’s father had been forced into slavery after falling ill. It was said that he was beaten to death by a slave master on his first day in the fields. Perhaps that was the reason for each man to choose such a dangerous path in life. The pain of losing a loved one, of not being there to protect them was a powerful motivator. Maehril offered redemption. Jerron could understand that for Cano and Mueller. He had made his own choice freely. At least he thought he had a few days earlier. Now, as he watched Maehril’s back, he thought not only of his murdered parents, but of all of his people. If he was the last Massoniel, then the burden of redemption rode on his shoulders. And he could feel the weight pressing him down. Always pressing.
Tired as they were, Mueller kept them moving at a fast pace. Just when Jerron was certain they would have to spend another night camped in the darkness of the forest, the smell of the ocean caught his nose. Up ahead the trees began to thin out until they could feel the warmth of the late day sun shining down upon their shoulders. Seeing the beach in the distance, the gentle break of the ocean surf, gave them all a tremendous feeling of relief. They had outlasted the darkness of that cursed forest. For the first time in days, it felt as if they had a chance.
With the sun setting to their right as they worked their way south, Mueller chose a spot on the beach to make camp. Cano dove out into the ocean, and Jerron could have sworn he felt his friend’s joy. Maehril dove in as well, basking in the cool water, floating leisurely on her back. Jerron and Mueller watched them swim for awhile, glad to have at least one moment of freedom and pleasure after so many fraught filled nights.
“Let's gather some wood for a fire,” Mueller told him.
There was driftwood scattered all over the beach. It didn’t take them long to gather enough. Just as the sun set completely, Mueller got the fire working and Cano came in from the ocean with two large blue fish. He expertly cleaned them and cut out four large fillets. Using his years of experience with beach camping, the leathery old sailor found some flat rocks to set close to the fire that acted like pans. It wasn’t long before the hot rocks had sufficiently cooked the fillets.
It had been more than a day since Jerron’s last meal. Sucking the juices from his fingers, Jerron thought to himself that he had never tasted anything better.
“Don’t ya worry none, ya fat toad,” Cano reassured him with a wide grin. “I can hear that belly of yers howling like a wolf. I’ll get us some more to eat at first light.”
Jerron let the insults slide. He was still ravenously hungry, but the fillet would hold him for the night.
Cano asked to take the first watch. He wanted to wake up early enough to fish for some breakfast. Jerron told Mueller he’d take the second watch. He figured that Mueller needed an uninterrupted sleep after the beating he’d taken that afternoon. Jerron was tired, but his body felt good. Somehow, despite all of the attacks the last few days, he’d managed to remain in decent condition. The cut in the left side of his ribcage was sore, but it was nothing he couldn’t handle.
He lay in the sand beside the fire watching the stars glimmer in the sky. It was comforting to see stars after days within that pitch black forest. Maehril came over and nestled in next to him. She rested her head on the crook of his arm and pressed her back against his side. After a moment, she looked back at him. Her eyes held an invitation to hold her.
Jerron had never lain like this with a girl before, and he suddenly became anxious and acutely aware of all of his faults. He smelled awful. It had been a few days since his last bath. His shirt was still damp from a day of sweating on the trail, and his face felt like his mother had massaged his skin with strips of slick bacon.
Maehril noted his hesitation. She turned over and grabbed his free arm, then pulled him over her into a spooning position. Jerron could feel her gently twisting in the sand to get comfortable. In just a few minutes she became still and her breathing became measured and soft.
Jerron lay there with an expression of panic on his face. He looked across the fire and saw Mueller soundly asleep. Then his eyes drifted up, and he caught sight of Cano grinning widely at him. He gave the fishman a sour look, and Cano laughed and turned away walking off into the darkness to keep an eye on the forest.
Maehril’s hair smelled of the sea. Its wiry wildness tickled his chin and nose, but he didn’t mind. The longer he lay there holding her in his arms, the less conscious he became of himself. Emotion flooded into his pores as though it were being absorbed through Maehril. When he thought of his parents, he only thought of all of the good memories. He closed his eyes and thought of his home on the outskirts of Yennit’s estate. His mouth salivated as he remembered the smell of his mother's bacon and eggs, or a roasted fowl with all the trimmings at supper. His ears filled with the sound of his father’s laughter, a full-bellied resonance that could infect a room, daring anyone around not to join in on the fun. Before he knew it, tears were streaming down his face. He tried to contain the sobs, to grieve in silence, and for a time it worked.
Then Maehril woke up and turned around. Her eyes looked up into his, sharing his pain. With a delicate thumb, she wiped away the tears on either side of his face. It only made his tears come stronger. She pulled him into a tight embrace, filling him with reassurance and love. A voice called to him from far away, like a whisper in the darkness. You‘re stronger than you think, it told him over and over. It said that he had been chosen because he alone was equal to this calling. When at last the tears were spent, he looked at Maehril and whispered “Thank you.”
She smiled sweetly and kissed his cheek. Then she rolled back over and quickly fell back asleep. Jerron soon drifted off to sleep as well. That night a single dream held his mind. He walked along a sun drenched beach hand-in-hand with a woman in white. He couldn’t remember her face, nor much of what was said, but he did remember one thing. The beach led to a mountain that loomed far ahead in the distance. He knew that it was his destination and that she was leading him there safely. And through it all, she had called him “child”.
When Cano woke him with a gentle tap on his shoulder, Jerron felt as if he’d slept for days. It had only been a few hours, four at best, yet he felt completely invigorated. Cano took up a spot close to Maehril and in no time at all, filled the night air with his incessant snoring.
Jerron stalked the camp's perimeter with his axe in his hand, but he was unable to stay focused. As his eyes strained to see in the darkness, mindful always of the forest a distance away, his thoughts kept going back to Maehril, and to the dream.
It was that voice. The voice that filled his head during Maehril’s embrace. It was the same voice he remembered from his dream of a woman in white guiding him to that mountain. He was a simple man, never one for deep, complex thinking. When he looked at a problem, he always saw two sides - black and white. But he understood explicitly that every problem had a middle ground, or gray area. The question that beset him as he paced around the camp was one of divinity. Had he just spoken with the Creator? And if so, what did that mean for Maehril?
Cano was certain that despite her objections, Maehril was the Creator made flesh. He had told Jerron without too much elaboration that Maehril had healed him, body and mind. Cano believed she had cleansed him of his past sins, and through her, he could finally forgive himself.
Jerron hadn’t understood any of it at the time. Now he felt differently. For the last few days, he had silently been at war with himself, both accepting the blame
for his parent's murder and trying to accept that had he been there, he likely would be dead as well. Despite the two-sided argument, he understood that there was a gray area there too. If he had been there with his parents, at least he could have given his life defending them. At least he could have died with honor and a clear conscience.
What burdened him now was the idea that he didn’t have a choice. When he met Cano in the road that day, was his parents’ death already a given? Was fate pulling him toward a greater calling? The mountain in his dream, loomed in his mind. That had been the Creator. He was certain of that. She had been guiding him to that mountain. For what purpose? What did she need him to do?
Before he knew it, Mueller was awake and telling him it was time to get some rest. Jerron didn’t want to go back to sleep, but Mueller was insistent. This time, Jerron took a spot across the fire from Maehril. He didn’t want to have any more troubled dreams. He didn’t want anything more to think about.
He awoke to a pastel sky, with the first sliver of sun breaking the horizon. Cano already had several lobsters on a spit, roasting above the fire. Jerron had never tasted lobster. They were difficult to catch and expensive.
He sat up and rubbed the sleep from his eyes. Maehril watched him from across the fire with a strange expression on her face. She seemed to study him as if she were unaware that he was awake and looking right at her.
“Ya smell like a pig that jest rolled around in scat,” Cano told him. “I can hardly cook these lobsters with yer infernal stink turning my stomach.”
Jerron rolled his eyes. “What do you want me to do about it, Fishman?”
“Well fer starters, ya could go take a quick dip in the ocean. Ya might kill every last fish unlucky enough to be swimming near the shore, but the salt water would do ya some good.”
Jerron just shook his head and grinned. Cano tended to have a sharper tongue in the mornings. “How long until we eat?”
“Long enough fer ya to have a good soak.”
Jerron trotted down to the shore. There wasn’t a lot of cover for him to remove his clothes. He lifted his arm and took a whiff. Cano wasn’t kidding. He smelled terrible. Though he didn’t want to start his day in soaking wet clothing, he figured it was better than stinking all day. Removing only his boots and socks, Jerron waded out until he was nearly waist deep. The surf was light, with barely any undertow, but he still wasn’t a confident swimmer. He let himself slide down into the water, sitting on the bottom with only his head above the surface.
It felt wonderful. The water was perfect and refreshing. Jerron used Cano’s teachings and held his nose when he went under the water. When he resurfaced, he rubbed his hands through his hair, vigorously scrubbing out the dirt and grease. Then he made a point of working his hands all over his body. He wasn’t sure how clean he was getting, but he felt much better.
When he came in, dripping wet, and took a seat by the glowing embers of the dwindling fire, Cano was waiting with a big fat lobster.
“Tear off the tail, and the claws. That’s where the sweet meat’s at,” Cano told him. “No. No. Yer doing it all wrong. Use yer blade to dig out the flesh.”
Jerron did as Cano instructed, using his belt knife to dig out the large piece of tail flesh. It tasted amazing.
They didn't dally for long, eating breakfast quickly before setting out. Mueller was careful to cover up their tracks, burying the charred embers and smoothing out the sand.
They walked through the grassy field that separated the forest from the beach and worked their way south. About an hour in, they came to an old road, overgrown but still visible. It made the walking easier, and Jerron began to feel as if they were starting to make time.
“What was with all that weeping last night?” Cano asked just past noontime.
“It was nothing,” Jerron answered dismissively.
In the sky above, storm clouds were rolling in from the ocean. On the eastern horizon, the clouds looked dark and heavy. Jerron knew they’d be camping in a heavy rain that night.
“Don’t ya give me that, boy,” Cano persisted. He eyed Maehril and Mueller who walked together several steps ahead. “Something happened to ya, and I want ya to know that I’m a friend. Could be a long time till ya see yer dear Ma and Pa again. Doesn’t hurt to have someone around ya can trust.”
Jerron didn’t want to talk about it, but he knew Cano could understand the kind of pain he was feeling. Actually, he realized, Cano did understand. He had been out to sea when his wife and daughter were murdered. Just like Jerron, Cano wished he had been there to protect them, but fate had chosen a different path.
“My parents are dead,” Jerron said with a shrug of his wide shoulders. Saying it didn’t hurt nearly as much as he thought it would.
Cano nodded sadly. “I was figuring as much. Desirmor likes to make examples of people. Jest like my wife and little girl. How do ya know fer certain?”
“Maehril told me,” Jerron said, watching her back as she walked. She had such a quiet way of walking, with her arms held close. It seemed as though her feet glided across the ground.
“She would know,” Cano clicked his teeth.
“It just all hit me last night, you know? Peters and Hartsohn. Cressler. So much death. And then me too. That thing in the trail was about to rip my head off. I was sure it was over.” He paused and swallowed hard, feeling a swell of emotion catching in his throat. “When Maehril cuddled up against me…I don’t know how to describe it. This feeling came over me.”
“Aye lad. I know that feeling well. She got to me that first morning. Cried my damn eyes out like ya never seen,” Cano explained.
Jerron dropped his voice to a whisper. “I heard a voice, Cano. In my head when she hugged me.” Cano’s eyes widened in acknowledgement. “You’ve heard it too, haven’t you?” Jerron asked.
“That first morning I spent with her, she hugged me. I swear to ya boy, I heard my wife calling to me from the heavens,” Cano told him.
“What did it say to you?”
“It told me to fergive myself,” Cano’s voice cracked.
“It told me that I’m stronger than I think,” Jerron said. “Do you think it was the Creator?”
“Aye, my boy. I’m sure of it,” Cano wiped at his eyes.
“I had a dream last night too,” Jerron continued to keep his voice low. “A woman in a white dress was walking me down a beach to a mountain.”
“Is that it?” Cano frowned.
Jerron nodded, “What do you think that means?”
“Damned if I know,” Cano shrugged. “I was never much good at riddles.”
They continued to talk after that. Cano told Jerron all about his childhood in Tel Amera, working on fishing boats.
As the afternoon passed away, the sky slowly continued to darken. Flashes of lightening lit up the eastern horizon, giving them a preview of what they could soon expect.
Just as a light rain began to fall, Jerron saw the three arches out in the water off of the coast ahead. They were near the shrael's cave. Thinking of getting his hands on some more of the fruit, he spared a glance behind them and felt his heart skip. Seven men appeared on the skyline to the north. They were on foot. Jerron couldn’t make out any details on their clothing, but it looked black, like an Imperial soldier's uniform.
“Mueller!” he shouted. “There are men back there!”
Mueller whipped around and stared with a hard face.
“It’s too late to hide. They’ve spotted us by now.” Mueller scanned the landscape trying to think of a plan. “Damn!” he shouted in frustration. “We’ve no choice but to run. If they catch us, we’ll have to fight.”
They ran as quickly as they could. Jerron knew it was no use. With Maehril and Cano slowing them down, those men would be upon them by nightfall. He knew it was going to come down to weapons. You’re stronger than you think. Those words resonated in his head with every urgent pulse of his beating heart. He hoped they were true.
Maehril and Cano d
id the best they could, but they couldn’t keep going. Jerron was also winded and heaving wildly. His lungs burned for air.
“It's no use,” Cano wheezed, dropping to his knees in an effort to catch his breath. Maehril sank down beside him equally spent.
Mueller was clearly annoyed, but had to consent. He could see their condition. The group of soldiers was gaining ground too quickly anyway. They were already about a half a mile back. It was a matter of time.
“Can you use your power, Maehril?” Mueller asked her hopefully.
She shook her head.
“She can’t harm innocent lives," Cano answered for her.
“But those men are going to try to kill us,” Mueller objected.
“Doesn’t matter. She can’t harm them. They may be after us, but they‘re still God‘s children.”
Mueller spat in disgust. “Well that doesn’t do us any good.”
The sky opened up suddenly, with a massive crack of thunder. Rain began to pour down in torrential waves. “I hope you’re ready to die,” Mueller shouted at Jerron.
Jerron pulled his axe free and took a moment to consider its weight. Ever since Yennit had suggested the axe, it had felt like a natural choice for him. He liked the way it moved.
“Cano, take Maehril and keep moving south. Jerron and I will try to hold them off,” Mueller ordered.
Cano got to his feet, still struggling to catch his breath. He helped Maehril to her feet. For a moment Maehril regarded all of them with a despondent sorrow that made Jerron want to weep. Then her eyes widened as if something had suddenly surprised her. She spun around with her eyes fixed south. A resonating boom, like a crack of thunder ripped across the landscape so loud it shook the ground dropping them all to their feet. When Jerron looked up his jaw dropped at what he saw.
********************************************************************
Three towering horses grazed side by side at the top of a low rise. Navan Prianhe lay flat in a patch of tall grass watching them in the moonlight. He had chosen to approach them upwind, and after carefully stalking his prey, he was now within striking distance.
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