Souls of Aredyrah 3 - The Taking of the Dawn

by Tracy A. Akers

  Vania did a double-take. “You what?”

  Eyan looked frantically around the room. “Where’s Father; is he back? It—it might not be dead!”

  Vania hurried to retrieve her cloak. “Your father’s not home,” she said, fastening the clasp beneath her chin. She grabbed up an ax that was kept by the door. “Take me to it,” she commanded.

  “Bu—but mother,” Eyan stammered. “Ye can’t!”

  “Of course I can. Now go.” Vania stepped through the exit, ax in hand, then paused to address Morna and Falyn. “You two stay here,” she said over her shoulder. “Don’t worry. We won’t be long.”

  “Vania, please,” Morna said. “It’s too dangerous.”

  “We’ll be fine,” Vania insisted. “Ye want to be here when Dayn gets back, don’t ye?”

  Morna blinked. “Yes, when Dayn gets back,” she said. But her words sounded as if they had been spoken in a trance.

  Falyn moved to Morna’s side. “I’ll look after her,” she said. “Go. We’ll be fine.”

  Eyan looked at Morna and Falyn with confusion, something was definitely going on, but before he could ask a single question, his mother was hustling him off the porch and toward the woods.

  It did not take long for them to reach the area where Eyan had seen the demon. As they approached, they slowed their pace, Vania with ax at the ready, Eyan with arrow notched. Eyan nodded toward the shore. “There,” he whispered. Vania gripped the ax more tightly, then slowly stepped in that direction.

  Upon the opposite shoreline, a brown horse with a black mane stood, staring at the two of them as if daring them to come closer. At its feet lay a bundle of what appeared to be leathers, but from where Eyan and Vania stood, it was hard to tell exactly what it was. One of Eyan’s arrows, however, was clearly imbedded in it.

  Vania narrowed her eyes. “Are ye sure it was a demon?” she asked suspiciously. “I never heard of a demon ridin’ a horse before, and a saddled one at that.”

  Eyan felt doubt rumble in his belly. Had he been too hasty?

  “But—but its hair was on fire, Mother,” he insisted. “And its eyes—”

  “Well, we won’t find out standin’ here, now will we?” Vania waded into the stream, and with Eyan at her side, picked her way over the rocks and rushing waters. Her long skirts swirled around her ankles, then billowed on the surface as the water rose to her calves. Eyan stayed close as they slogged to the opposite shore.

  The horse was but feet from them now, standing protectively between them and the demon on the ground. The horse snorted and stomped a hoof.

  “There there, girl,” Vania said gently. “We’re only here t’ help.”

  The horse eyed her warily, keeping itself between the strangers and its injured master. Vania laid the ax upon the ground, then held up her hands. “Ye see, girl? No harm.” She reached out, then stroked the horse’s velvety nose. The horse calmed, but its eyes remained on Eyan.

  Eyan stepped toward the victim that was lying on the other side of the horse, but he kept his distance, deciding to stand at the demon’s feet so as not to be ensorcelled by its eyes. Vania, on the other hand, seemed to have no fear of the thing. She rounded the horse and moved toward the demon’s head, then knelt down beside it.

  “Not so close,” Eyan warned.

  “Shush!” Vania said. She leaned in closer to the demon, examining it, then grunted. “On fire, ye say?” She brushed the long red hair away from the demon’s face. “Looks like a boy with red hair to me.”

  Eyan gaped at the unconscious stranger. “I swear, Mother. He looked like a demon.”

  Vania clucked her disapproval as she examined the arrow protruding from the boy’s cape. She breathed a sigh. “Just grazed his shoulder,” she said with relief. She lifted the edge of her skirt, still wet from being dragged through the stream, and dabbed the wound. The laceration was bleeding, but it wasn’t deep, definitely not life-threatening.

  The boy moaned and raised a hand to his shoulder.

  Eyan jumped at the sight of the scarred hand that Vania was now swatting away from the wound. As Eyan stared at the mottled fingers, he realized the hand wasn’t a claw as he had first imagined. It had obviously been burned.

  Recognition smacked him in the face. “Ye don’t suppose this is—”

  “Reiv,” Vania said.

  The strange boy’s eyes fluttered open. They were violet—just like Dayn and Alicine had described—just like the image of the boy in the cave that—

  The boy blinked up at them, then at the arrow embedded in the ground next to him. “Gods, are you trying to kill me?” he groused. He struggled to rise, but Vania pressed him back down.

  “I’m sorry,” Eyan said. “I thought ye were a demon.”

  The boy glared. “What is with you people?” he muttered.

  “Not to worry, Reiv,” Vania said. “We’ll have ye mended in no time.”

  The boy’s face took on a look of surprise. “You know me?”

  “Only of ye. Dayn and Alicine—”

  “Dayn and Alicine?” Reiv scrambled to his feet. Eyan grabbed his elbow to steady him.

  “Lands, child,” Vania said, taking Reiv by the other arm. “Ye need to stay put.”

  But Reiv ignored her. “They are here?” he asked anxiously. “Tell me!”

  “Aye,” Eyan said, feeling his own excitement rise. “They’re—”

  “Relatives,” Vania added hastily. “You’ll see ‘em soon enough. Let’s get ye to the house and tend that shoulder of yours first.” She guided him to the horse. “Eyan, help him up, will ye?”

  “It is only a scratch, and I am perfectly capable of mounting a horse,” Reiv said. “It is not like your boy there has much skill with a bow.”

  Eyan’s spirits fell. For some reason he wanted Reiv to like him. And his skills as a hunter were about the only thing he had going for him. “I’m usually much more accurate,” he said defensively.

  “Is that so,” Reiv replied. “Well thank the gods this time you were not.”

  Vania shook her head. “Alicine said ye had a pride about ye.”

  “She should know,” he said with a laugh.

  “Well, pride or no pride, I’d rather ye let Eyan help ye,” Vania said. “Ye hit your head when ye fell; might be dizzy for a spell.”

  Reiv acquiesced, too muddled to argue the point, and moved to mount the horse. “Oh, my things,” he said, turning toward the hillside at their backs. “I left them up there, beneath an overhang. The storm—”

  “I’ll get ‘em,” Eyan said.

  Eyan bent over and cupped his hands for Reiv to step into, then hoisted him up and into the saddle. Once Reiv was settled, Eyan darted up the hillside to gather the rest of the belongings. But when he arrived, he realized there wasn’t much to retrieve. There was one ratty bedroll and a leather bag with a few oily rags, but very little food. As for tools and weapons, there was a dirk tucked beneath the blanket and that was it. He must be starvin', he thought. He turned his gaze down the hillside toward the proud young man sitting on the horse. Someday I’ll prove to ye my aim’s not so bad, Eyan decided. Ye’ll see.

  Back to ToC

  Chapter 39: Seeing the Light

  Dayn lay curled up in the darkness, shivering. His clothes were still damp from the drenching they had received earlier, and he had been given neither blanket nor cloak to help keep him warm. He could not imagine how long he had been lying there; there were no windows to help him judge the time by sunlight or moonlight, or for that matter, any other light. Still, it seemed as though he had been there a very long time.

  The door creaked open, sending a stab of light to his eyes. He raised a hand to shield them, then squinted up at the light. He quickly realized a lantern was entering the room, and behind it was the dark shape of Lorcan.

  Dayn scrambled up from the floor. He clenched his fists at his side. “You can’t keep me here,” he said. “I’ve done nothing wrong.”

  “Oh, you will not be here for lon
g,” Lorcan said smugly. “As for the other, a verdict has already been reached.”

  “What do you mean, verdict?”

  “The one determined at your trial, of course.”

  Dayn’s jaw dropped. “Trial? Should I not have been allowed to speak in my own defense?”

  Lorcan set the lantern on a nearby barrel, then pulled up a crate. “Sit, Dayn,” he said. “Let us discuss your sentence.”

  Dayn felt his legs begin to shake. “Sentence? What sentence?”

  “Sit, if you wish to hear it,” Lorcan replied. “If you’re lucky, I might even make you an offer.”

  Dayn sank down onto the crate. He knew he was about to hear some terrible news, and wished he had the courage to hear it standing on his feet.

  “You are to be executed at high sun,” Lorcan said matter-of-factly. He watched Dayn closely, hoping to relish a response, but Dayn found himself unable to give one.

  “Do you wish to know the method?” Lorcan continued.

  “I assume it will be at the stake,” Dayn said. For some reason he felt no panic; his mind had moved him into a temporary state of denial.

  “I regret your death is to be so painful,” Lorcan said with feigned sympathy, “but you do realize there is no other way. Evil can only be purged by fire.”

  “So I understand,” Dayn replied. “Will you be joining me there?”

  Lorcan’s eyes flashed with hatred, then he calmed, though with obvious effort. “I mentioned earlier that I might be willing to make you an offer. Will you listen?”

  For a moment Dayn’s hopes lifted, but then he realized any offer Lorcan made would probably not be worth the taking. Still, he could not help but ask, “What sort of offer?”

  “First, give me the names of all those you have corrupted. Second, free my son and daughter from your spells. If you do, I will see to it that your heart stops before the flames lick your boots. ”

  Dayn jerked his head in bafflement. “What?” he said.

  Lorcan stepped toward him threateningly. “No point denying it. You know as well as I do that you ensorcelled them. Why else would Falyn agree to go with you? Why else would my son be what he is?”

  Dayn stood to face him. “What makes you think I won’t ensorcel you right now?”

  Lorcan scoffed. “I’m immune to your black magic, boy. Do your best. You’ll not work your spells on me.”

  “You’re right,” Dayn shot back. “Because I don’t know how to.”

  “Oh, but you do.” Lorcan’s eyes narrowed. “Now, as I said, tell me the names.”

  “There are no names!”

  Lorcan grabbed Dayn by the front of his tunic and shoved him against the nearest wall. In the blink of an eye he had whipped a blade beneath Dayn’s chin.

  Dayn froze, his survival instincts sapping all ability to move.

  “Have you ever seen someone die at the stake, Dayn?” Lorcan asked. “No? Well let me enlighten you. First you will be tied to a post atop the pyre for all to see. The square will be filled with spectators: men, women…even children. Some will pelt you with rotted fruit, others will taunt and laugh at you. At first you will feel only humiliation. After all, the pyre is not yet lit; your flesh is not suffering; you still harbor an element of hope. But soon the executioner will arrive with the torch. It is then that you will realize true terror. Your eyes will search for rescue. But alas, there will be none.

  “The executioner will turn to face you, making sure you are witness to the moment he touches the torch to the wood piled around you. At first the pyre will only smoke, then a telltale crackle of flames will reach your ears. The crowd will cheer. You will struggle. And then the smoke will thicken. Tears will begin to sting your eyes; your chest will struggle for want of air. The flames will rise around you. Soon they will lick your boots, melting the leather to your feet. The pain will be horrendous, Dayn, but nothing compared to the agony you will feel as the flames creep up your trousers, then your shirt, then your face. You will writhe and scream. You will pray for death. But you will still be alive—a pillar of fire, yes. But still alive.

  “Some in the crowd will turn away, no longer having the stomach for it. But most will stay, for they know your death will bring them life. No longer will you poison their air and taint their wells. No longer will you kill their crops and destroy their homes. But more importantly, no longer will you possess their children.”

  Lorcan eased the knife from Dayn’s chin. He rotated the blade, considering it for a moment.

  “Now, boy, as I was saying. If you give me the names of those you have corrupted, I will see that you are dead before the flames reach you. A knife thrown to the heart, an arrow shot to the head. It is no matter to me; I give you the choice.”

  Dayn’s mind raced. “But—but I told you,” he managed. “There are no names, and I can’t release anyone from a spell I didn’t conjure!”

  Lorcan curled his lip, then walked toward the door. He paused, turning to face Dayn one last time. “As you wish, demon. Die in agony. But know this: When the flames eat your flesh, I will see to it that my daughter is a witness to your screams.”

  Back to ToC

  Chapter 40: Race for Time

  The ride to Vania's and Eyan’s cabin was not a long one. In no time at all Reiv found himself being led into a clearing and toward a small timber dwelling located in the center of it. Around the clearing and scattered amongst the trees were campsites occupied by rugged-looking men and not-so-genteel women. Most were dressed in forest greens, much like the color Dayn had worn, but others were clothed in shades of blue or burnt sienna. The most intimidating amongst them, however, were those in browns with plaids of red, clearly the alphas of the group. As Reiv glanced at the well-armed men and women staring at him as he passed, a nagging sense of dread began to weave its way into his thoughts. He could not be certain, but judging by the weapons, and the expressions of the people carrying them, a conflict was in the making.

  At last he and his escorts arrived at the cabin. Reiv dismounted and looped the horse’s reins over a nearby post. Eyan assured him he would tend the animal as soon as Reiv was settled inside. Vania stepped onto the porch and opened the door. Reiv entered behind her, his hopes riding high at the possibility that Dayn and Alicine might be inside. To his profound disappointment, the only persons he saw were a frail-looking woman and an attractive girl about Alicine’s age. The two of them rose immediately from their places at the table, gaping at Reiv in obvious alarm. Reiv felt annoyed by their reaction, but he dampened it down. He didn’t appreciate their less than friendly greeting, but could he blame them? Even had he been in a better state, his Tearian features would have still screamed demon.

  “Morna. Fetch me some cloth and a bowl of fresh water,” Vania said. She pulled off her cloak and hung it by the door, then took Reiv’s from his shoulders and did the same. “Oh, and bring the medicinal in the amber bottle there,” she added. “The boy’s shoulder needs tendin’.”

  The woman nodded and made her way to a cabinet in the nearby kitchen. The girl scurried to the woman’s side, working to keep a wide distance between herself and the monster that had just entered the room.

  Vania motioned Reiv to the table. “Sit,” she said.

  Reiv did as instructed, all the while surveying his surroundings. The interior of the cabin, he noted, was one large room, crowded but cozy. The table where he sat could accommodate at least a dozen people and stretched from one side of the room to the other. Numerous pegs lined the wall near the front door, most of them covered with an assortment of cloaks, his own included. Reiv scanned them, looking for a hint of the coat he had once seen Dayn wear. But there was no sign of it. He moved his eyes to the far wall. Several beds could be seen, each with a trunk located at the end of it. It soon became clear that a rather large family was living in a rather small space. He could only pray that Dayn and Alicine were amongst them.

  “Falyn dear,” Vania began.

  “Falyn?” Reiv leapt from the bench and
turned his attention to the girl still standing in the kitchen. “You are Falyn?” He rounded the table and stepped toward her, grinning, but she backed away.

  Reiv halted his approach. “Dayn told me much of you. I am Reiv—his cousin.”

  Falyn gave a little gasp. “Reiv?”

  Morna spun from the sink where she had been drawing water from the pump. She dropped the bowl with a clank and a loud splash of water.

  Reiv narrowed his eyes at Vania. “What is it you are not telling me?”

  Vania turned to Eyan. “Go tend to Reiv’s horse,” she said.

  “Now?” Eyan asked. But one look at her face and he knew there would be no debating it. “Fine,” he said with a scowl. He turned and stomped toward the door, then shoved it open with his foot. “Why am I always left out of everythin’,” he groused, slamming the door behind him.

  “I think ye’d better sit, dear,” Vania said to Reiv. Then to Morna, “Water?”

  Morna picked up the bowl to refill it.

  Falyn stepped timidly toward the table where Reiv had retaken his seat. “You’re Dayn’s cousin?” she asked. She managed a feeble smile, but there was no disguising the worry in her eyes.

  Reiv swung his attention back to Vania. “Where are Dayn and Alicine?”

  Vania reached for the bowl that Morna was now handing her and the cloth draped across her arm. “Let’s tend that shoulder of yours first.”

  Reiv rose from the bench. “No,” he said, “I think I would rather have my question answered if you do not mind.”

  Vania set the supplies on the table and folded her hands. “Very well. Dayn is in Kiradyn, and Alicine has gone with Haskel and some clansmen to rescue him.”

  “Rescue him? From what?”

  Morna turned away, her hand covering her mouth.

  “He’s been tried and sentenced to die at high sun,” Vania said.

  “What?” Reiv cried. “By the gods, what did he do?”