Souls of Aredyrah 3 - The Taking of the Dawn

by Tracy A. Akers

  “I’m sorry,” Jensa mumbled. “I know you have affection for her.”

  “And she has affection for Torin,” Reiv said.

  Jensa’s expression lifted. “Oh…well…that answers that.”

  “Frankly, it leaves me rather confused,” Reiv said.

  Jensa laughed, but her face grew solemn as her gaze wandered over the hut’s meager contents. “I suppose there can be no more debate as to whether or not we leave,” she said. “But where are we to go?”

  “I know of only one place,” Reiv said.

  “Kirador?” Jensa asked, but Reiv could not tell from her tone whether or not she wished it.

  “No,” Reiv said. “I do not think we would be welcome there. Do not forget, the Kiradyns believe in demons. No doubt we would be mistaken for them. Besides, Dayn and Alicine went home to resume their old lives. I do not think it would do well for us to barge in on them so soon.”

  “So where, then?” Kerrik asked. His eyes brightened. “Will it have sand and water?”

  “No, not like here, but it is beautiful nonetheless. The place I am thinking of is a valley, beyond the mountains. Between here and Kirador.”

  “How do you know of this place?” Jensa asked suspiciously.

  “I learned of it during my Transcension,” Reiv said. “Yustes thinks it is a place called Oonayei.”

  Jensa gawked. “Oonayei? The Oonayei?”

  “I do not know; perhaps. There was much argument about it, something about a prophecy. Yustes seemed convinced, but Lyal and his friends scoffed at the idea. I know little about it myself.”

  “Everyone knows about Oonayei,” Kerrik said.

  “Is that so? Well how is it that I do not?”

  “Because you don’t do Service,” Kerrik said.

  It was true; Reiv did not participate in the spiritual teachings of the Shell Seekers. He believed in the gods—well…the Tearian gods at least. Why, he had even met one of them: Agneis. But he had no desire to participate in any more rituals. That which he had experienced during the act of Transcension was enough for one lifetime.

  “Kerrik is right, you know,” Jensa said. “If you had paid more attention to your spiritual health, you would know about Oonayei.”

  Reiv raised his palms in surrender. “You are right, but no lectures, please. There is no time for them. We must be away from here by dark. I suggest we start packing.”

  Within the hour they had collected the barest of essentials: food, eating and cooking utensils, blankets, medicinals, flint, and a few personal items. There was little time to worry over the rest of their possessions; the sun was nearing the peaks of the mountains, and they still had to fetch Torin and the girls.

  Reiv and Kerrik constructed a travois to transport Torin along with the bedding. The cart that they had once used to carry goods to Market held the rest of the supplies. The poles that made up the transport for Torin were fastened to Gitta’s harness. She would pull the travois, while Reiv pulled the cart and the others walked alongside.

  With supplies finally loaded, Reiv ducked back into the hut to survey its contents one last time. There was still one thing left to retrieve: the book that Nannaven had given him the last time he saw her.

  He knelt beside Kerrik’s cot and stretched an arm beneath it. The underbelly of the bed was stuffed with boyhood collections: rocks, feathers, and birdlike skeletons; shells, trinkets, and weapons made of sticks. All were crammed willy-nilly, which was why Reiv had hidden the book there in the first place. Since Kerrik rarely pulled anything out of the pile—he primarily just shoved things into it—Reiv felt the hiding place was a good one. Of course, few of Kerrik’s collectibles were going with them, so there was plenty to dig through.

  He pushed some items aside, then scraped out even more as he tunneled to the back of Kerrik’s treasure pile. At last his fingers fell upon the burlap cloth that wrapped the book and, grabbing it by a corner, pulled it out.

  He brushed off the dust, but dared not unwrap it. There was no time to look at the thing, and even less to answer questions should a member of the Guard lay eyes on it. Though the treaty had lifted the ban on books, it probably no longer held. And knowing what happened to those caught with writings in the past, he did not relish the idea of being caught with the tome now.

  He crawled up from his knees and tucked the bundle beneath his arm, then headed out the hut and to the cart. “Had to retrieve one last thing,” he announced casually as he walked past the others who were now waiting by the horse. He secured the book under his sleeping roll, then double-checked the ropes that straddled the cart.

  Reiv turned to Jensa, Brina, and Kerrik and his spirits took a dip. Their eyes were not turned in the direction they would soon be traveling, but were gazing past the dunes, longing for the sea.

  “Shall we visit it one last time?” Reiv asked. Though they were pressed for time, he realized they could not leave without saying goodbye, and knew he couldn’t either.

  Together they made their way toward the beach. When they arrived, they stood solemnly, drinking in the bright teal colors of the sea and the musty scent of the waters. The waves crashed loudly in the distance, but lapped the shoreline gently. One by one the four of them stepped into the water. Even Brina, who had never dared, soon stood ankle deep.

  Kerrik dove beneath the waves, then sprang back up to the surface. “Look!” he announced. He grinned and thrust out a hand to display his latest prize: a shell, large and pink and spiked in iridescent shades of white.

  Reiv’s heart melted. “It is a fine one, Kerrik,” he said.

  Kerrik’s grin wavered as his eyes moved past Reiv toward the tree line.

  Reiv wheeled around, half-expecting to see a host of guards standing there. But what he saw sent him a very different emotion. Shell Seekers, hundreds of them, were weaving between the trees, making their way slowly toward the beach. All were adorned in their finest garb: togas and sarongs dyed in shades of the sea and the sunset; eyes outlined in kohl; shell jewelry dangling from ears, necks, wrists, and ankles. There were ancient men and elderly women, bent in stature but proud in spirit. There were mothers with children clinging to breast and skirt; young men, old men, and in between. Teens and adolescents, males and females, all approached in mass. And Yustes, the Elder, walked ahead of them all.

  Yustes led the people toward Reiv, and there he stopped. His face was lined with age, but his eyes were bright with anticipation. The Elder tipped his head respectfully, and Reiv returned the gesture, but neither said a word; there seemed to be no need.

  Yustes turned to face the sea, then raised his arms and began to chant. As the words left his lips, Reiv realized the man was singing in the Old Tongue, a language Reiv had heard only rarely and did not understand. But as the crowd responded in unison, Reiv understood it was a Service of sorts, a ceremony of thanks.

  Reiv stood respectfully, feeling like an outsider. He had never thought of their religion as his own, and had no clue as to what they were saying. But as he listened to the love and gratitude reflected in their voices, and gazed at the water to which it was directed, he realized that he felt it too. He loved the sea, and he loved the gods, no matter who, or what, they were.

  The Shell Seekers knelt, and so did Reiv. They kissed the sand; he followed their lead. As they sang, he closed his eyes to focus on the rhythm of their words. When they had finished, they prayed for a moment in silence. And as they did so, Reiv whispered a prayer of his own: Thank you for allowing me to have known these people.

  He felt a hand on his shoulder, and he looked up to see Yustes standing over him. “It is time,” the old man said.

  “Time?” Reiv asked.

  “Time to leave. The sea forgives us. One day she will welcome us back.”

  “You are coming with me?” Reiv asked.

  “Those of us here. Some have remained to do what they must. Elders Nye and Quin have chosen to stay and offer spiritual guidance.”

  Reiv ran his eyes over the congrega
tion. “How can we hope to move so many so quickly?”

  “Fear not,” Yustes said. “You lead us to Oonayei. We will do the rest. It was foretold by the gods; they will not desert us.”

  But Reiv was skeptical. “How long until they can be packed and ready?” he asked. “The sun will be setting soon. We need to be well gone by then.”

  “Our supplies are lined up behind yours,” Yustes said. “We sought you at your family’s hut before finding you here. When we saw your supplies, but not the rest of you, we knew you were doing what we, too, intended: giving thanks to the sea.”

  Yustes’s words resonated through Reiv’s thoughts. Jensa… Kerrik…Torin…Brina…they were his family, as were every man, woman, and child now standing before him. And should they go with him, he risked losing them all.

  “Yustes,” he said, “we must go to the Jecta encampment first. Torin must be fetched, and any Jecta who wishes to go with us. Do the people realize that?”

  Yustes smiled. “We have already prepared transports and packed additional supplies for the sick. A messenger has been sent ahead to help the Jecta prepare for the journey.”

  “But many are badly injured,” Reiv insisted, “and others are dying of the fever. My family is willing to take the risk for Torin’s sake, but these people—” He waved his hand toward the waiting crowd. “Are they sure this is what they want to do?”

  “They are,” Yustes said. “The gods have never turned their backs on us. Who are we to turn our backs on others?”

  They all made their way back to the path near the hut. Reiv stepped toward the cart and slid the pull-harness over his head and across his back and shoulders. He grabbed hold of the pole handles on either side of him and took the first step. The load was heavy, and Reiv was not particularly strong. Torin had always been the one to pull the cart to Market, and now Reiv appreciated the man’s seemingly super-human strength.

  The encampment was not far, but by the time they reached it, Reiv’s arms and legs were shaking from exertion. He disentangled himself from the harness and motioned for Jensa to follow him.

  “You stay with Brina,” he ordered Kerrik.

  “But Reiv,” Kerrik whined.

  “No arguments,” Reiv said, and he meant it. He did not know what shape Torin would be in when they arrived, and did not want Kerrik to see something he was not prepared to see.

  The rest of the Shell Seekers quickly dispersed to various corners of the encampment. Brina and Kerrik joined them as they pitched in to help fold tents, gather supplies, and lift the disabled onto transports.

  “Here,” Reiv said as he and Jensa arrived at the tent where Torin could be found. He pulled back the flap and ushered Jensa in ahead of him.

  Reiv scanned the interior, not sure what to expect, but he was pleased to see Cora and the girls gathering up what little they had, and Torin awake and propped up on a roll of blankets.

  “Torin!” Jensa cried. She rushed over and fell to her knees, smothering his face with a half a dozen kisses. He winced and offered her a weak smile, but clearly he was in much pain.

  “Oh, gods, what did they do to you?” she said, looking him up and down. “Never you mind. You will soon be on your feet.”

  Jensa rose, then discreetly motioned for Cora to follow her to the other side of the tent.

  “How is he?” Jensa whispered. “Be truthful with me.”

  “His wounds will heal, but his spirit is very weak.”

  “What do you mean?” Jensa asked.

  “Did Reiv not tell you?” Cora frowned. “Come with me.” She looked over her shoulder toward Reiv. “Reiv, will you help the girls finish gathering our things? I’ll be back in a moment to help you with Torin.”

  Reiv nodded, and Cora and Jensa slipped through the flap.

  “Tell me, please,” Jensa said as they stopped outside the tent.

  Cora compressed her lips, then said, “Your brother suffers greatly. When he was in Pobu, the King forced him to make a decision: he could either save Gem and her sister, or he could save Mya and the body of his son.”

  “Oh, gods,” Jensa said, horrified. “And he chose the girls.”

  “Yes. And received two arrows in his back for it.”

  Jensa felt grief wash over her, not only for Torin, but for Mya and Farris. She had known Mya since childhood, and Torin had loved her since he was old enough to know what love meant. While Jensa had made many friends since joining Torin in Meirla all those years ago, Mya had always been her one true constant. Now she was gone forever, as was Torin’s son. And if Torin did not recover from it, he might soon follow. “Grief could take him,” Jensa said. “I fear that even more than the wounds in his back.”

  “I’ll not desert him,” Cora replied. “And neither will you. It will take time, but I think he’ll heal, especially now that his family is here.” She smiled with encouragement. “When you arrived, I saw a spark in him I’d not seen since I first tended him.”

  Jensa drew a breath of relief, then turned her gaze to her feet. She folded her arms. “I have not been friendly to you, Cora, and I’m sorry. I now realize how much you care for my brother.”

  Cora cocked her head. “And the reason for your previous distrust of me?”

  “I thought you had affection for another,” Jensa said. “But it was none of my concern.”

  “I see,” Cora said. “Then there is no longer a reason for you to deny Lyal your affections.”

  “What? Lyal? Gods, why does everyone think I have affection for Lyal!” Jensa said.

  Cora lifted a brow. “Not Lyal then?”

  Jensa’s face went hot. “I’ll not deny I’ve…kissed him. But no. Lyal does not hold my heart.”

  “Some other man, then?”

  “No…I mean…he wouldn’t wish it.”

  “But you would,” Cora said.

  Jensa shook her head. “We wouldn’t be a proper match. Besides, he’s meant for another.”

  “Ah, so you were not trying to protect the man from me, but the other woman.”

  “Well…” Jensa paused, considering Cora’s words. Satisfied that they would suffice, she said, “It doesn’t matter. I should know better than to second guess the affairs of the heart.”

  “Don’t be so hard on yourself. What is meant to be will be, and if not…” Cora laughed. “I don’t think we have as much control over these things as we’d like to believe. I know I never have.”

  Jensa looked toward the tent. Cora followed her gaze.

  “If there’s one love that is constant,” Cora said, “it’s that of family. My mother always said it could cure any ill.”

  Jensa smiled. “Then my brother will soon be well.”

  * * * *

  Reiv knelt next to Torin’s pallet, watching him closely. Torin’s eyes were closed, but Reiv felt certain he was awake.

  “Torin,” he said softly. He placed a hand on his shoulder.

  Torin’s eyes opened slightly. He forced a thin-lipped smile. “Thank you for looking after Nely and Gem,” he said, then coughed.

  Reiv tilted a mug of water to his lips. Torin lifted his head, and with the support of Reiv’s hand, took a sip. Reiv eased Torin’s head back onto the bedroll. “I am sorry for what my brother did to you, and—and to the others. I am sure you do not wish to speak of it, but please know how grateful we are for you.”

  “Grateful?” Torin frowned. “Whatever for?”

  “For the fact that you are not dead. If you had died, a piece of us would have died with you.”

  “Us?”

  “Yes, us,” Reiv said, but he felt embarrassed to be included in that us. “You know—Jensa, and Kerrik, and Brina, and Cora and Nely and Gem and—” He sighed. “Very well…and me.”

  Torin’s right eyebrow arched. “I didn’t know you had such affection for me,” he said.

  “Do not get any ideas,” Reiv said. “Besides, there is another who loves you more I think.”

  Jensa and Cora swept into the room. Reiv rose to
his feet. “The fever must have addled your brother’s mind,” he said to Jensa. “He made an attempt at humor just now. It frightens me.”

  “Humor?” Jensa asked with surprise. She turned to Torin. “Shape shifter, what have you done with my brother?”

  Cora made her way over to Torin and reached down to check his wounds. “Much better,” she said as she secured the dressings. “Do you think you’ll be able to travel? You’re the last to load, and everyone is waiting.”

  “If you think it best,” he said.

  “I do,” she replied, and lifted his arm and placed it around her shoulder.

  Reiv helped Cora hoist Torin from the mat, then they guided him to the travois waiting outside. Brina and Kerrik had brought it at Jensa’s signal, and Kerrik was now dancing around it, antsy to see his older brother.

  “Reiv said you got shot with arrows!” he said as Torin and the others approached.

  Torin grunted as Reiv and Cora lowered him onto the transport.

  Kerrik leaned over him. “Did it hurt? Where’d you get shot? What did it feel like?”

  Torin’s eyes flashed at Kerrik, but then glistened with affection. “Nice to see you too.”

  “Sorry.” Kerrik gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. “But did it hurt?”

  “Of course it hurt,” Torin growled. But he seemed more amused than annoyed. “Take a look at the gaping hole in my chest, if you think you have the stomach for it.”

  Kerrik sucked in a breath. “Oh can I?”

  “No, you cannot,” Cora said firmly. “I’ve only just secured the bandages and we need to be going.”

  “I can tell you all about it, Kerrik,” Gem said. “I saw everything.” She was standing next to Kerrik now, and her face was absolutely beaming. In all the time Reiv had been with the girl, he had never seen her beam about anything. But then he recalled her saying she was going to marry Kerrik someday, and realized there might be something to it.

  With Torin settled, and the Shell Seekers and Jecta ready to go, Reiv motioned them to follow him. He turned to the cart, but then a huge tattooed man stepped in front of him and secured the harnesses onto his own muscular shoulders.