“They’re alright,” he assured her. “They’re fine. And you’re going to be too.” But his face contracted in pain, and she saw it. Her heart faltered in fear, but she told herself it must be from the wound on his forehead. He said they were fine, and she fell back to sleep.
Over the next two days, they took turns coming in to help her or bring her food, and finally, when Asbult still had not come, she began to suspect the truth. At last, Cila came for the first time at the end of the second day, and looking at her sister’s face, she knew for sure. When she left, Lavendier asked that she send Garrity in.
He came in immediately.
“Garrity,” she said weakly, but calmly.
“Yes?” he leaned over her.
“I haven’t seen Asbult since I’ve been awake. Where is he?”
The warrior was silent.
“I see,” she said, and was quiet a long while. When she did speak again, her words were broken and thick. “I don’t – I don’t know what to do – with hatred.” Tears welled in her eyes. “I don’t want to express it because then I would just seem petulant. I was always petulant before. Do I ignore it? What do you do with it? I mean surely – your mother….well, didn’t she make you angry?”
His throat clenched. “Yes. All the time,” he managed to say.
“Then how did you deal with it?”
He thought a long, steady moment. He took a deep breath and the tension in his throat eased a little. “For most of my life, I did nothing. I smothered it deep in my heart and did nothing. It was a demon, I guess, that I refused to face. It burned, and when it threatened to rise, I stifled it.” He looked at her with compassion. “But that is not as it should be. It grew and grew, unseen, until in the light of day, it was a hideous beast with a mind of its own.” He scowled. “No. Don’t ignore it.” He was silent a long moment, then said fiercely, “You must kill it with kindness, and accept the pain. Accept, forgive, be patient. You must expend it in patience, kindness, and forgiveness. But it’s not easy.”
She laughed softly, tears falling out of the corners of her eyes and gathering in her ears, and moaned in pain. “It never is. But then, everything worthwhile is difficult, it seems.”
He smiled at her poignantly and sighed, weighted with ancient and new pain.
* * *
On the third morning Viol was on the second night watch, and she suddenly cried out from her perch above the outcropping, “Garrity! I can see gorgans closing in on us on two sides!”
Instantly, he was awake and standing with his sword in his hand. “From where?”
“East and south.”
He handed up Jacian to her, who protested only a little in his sleepiness. He was used to running – it was in his bones now, more so than any of the others.
“Go north. Take your sisters, and I’ll stay here with Laven. Your best chance is to hide in the treetops. Maybe they won’t find you.”
“You can’t hold them off by yourself.”
“But I can give you a fighting chance. Go, no argument.” He had already shaken Adlena and Cila awake, and they scrambled up, grabbing their packs. “Follow Viol,” he commanded.
They clambered up the rock face, and he watched them disappear into the night. After all these miles, after all this time, he was going to die now, like all the other men. Maybe his death would benefit the other women, but Lavendier would perish for certain.
He looked into the cave where she lay sound asleep, and sighed. For the first time, he let himself rest in her beauty. Her brown auburn curls were uncontained, spreading out around her face, framing it in chocolate swirls. Her skin had always been paler than her sisters’, but now it was tanned and healthy, an even color from their traveling in the sun. Her lips were dark and red, and her lashes were long and curling against her cheeks. His heart ached suddenly – he was willing to die for all of them, but that his death should mean hers was very hard.
All of a sudden, she started up, and he nearly jumped back in surprise at the intensity in her eyes and voice. “Gorgans are coming!”
“Yes. You heard Viol call out?”
She shook her head in fear, “I can feel them coming closer.” She closed her eyes. “There are fifteen of them. Their blood is icy cold and another liquid flows in their veins, red hot. They’re in such pain!” Fear tightened Garrity’s muscles, and he saw that she was equally terrified at her prescient, mysterious knowledge. She was shivering.
Suddenly, she looked at him again. “There’s none to the east. There’s a way we could get through.”
He crouched beside her. “Are you sure? What is happening to you? Are you sure?”
“Yes. Directly to the east. It’s not far – we could get through without being seen.”
Garrity deliberated only an instant. Dying here or maybe getting through there…He went to the fire, sheathed his sword, put on his pack, then hurried back and found Lavendier stumbling as she tried to stand up. He lifted her up in his arms, still wrapped in her blankets and cloak.
“Tell me where to go,” he whispered. He could hear approaching growls and footsteps. It sounded like they were on all sides.
“Left,” she whispered. “Straight left.” He dashed to the left, pushing through the undergrowth, trying to make as little noise as possible, though he knew the gorgans did not hunt on scent or sound. Unless they lay in silent wait for their prey, they always barreled through the underbrush, effectually drowning all other noise, lumbering about until they stumbled on their prey.
“Right,” she whispered. “Just a little.”
He swerved.
“Stop.”
He paused.
“Ok. Um, left a little and straight – but quickly…they’re closing the gap.”
He ran as fast as he could, and Lavendier breathed rapidly, her head spinning, the world feeling like it was closing in around her. The gorgans were so near she felt like she could reach out and touch them. Nearer, nearer, coming closer, she felt their every move, their hatred and pain and fiery, icy beings… and then, suddenly, they were behind and falling away! They had escaped the pack, and she breathed a sigh of relief.
“You can stop now. We’re through.” Her voice was weak, and she was shaking. “We’re through.”
He stood still a moment. He had drawn on his super human strength, and did not even breathe quickly. Calmly, holding her close still, he took stock of their surroundings. They were still in forest land, with no convenient cover to hide under.
“We’re going to have to find the others,” he told her grimly. “I sent them north and east, but I don’t know…” He stopped speaking. Her trembling had continued, and now it had risen to such a pitch that he felt his own body shaking.
“Laven, what’s wrong?”
“Cold,” she breathed. “So cold.” Her breath was coming in gasps, wheezing from her chest. He felt her forehead and it was ice cold. This was not from fright or fever - it was something strange. Her teeth chattered so hard that he could hear them, and he was not sure that she was not dying right there in his arms.
“It’s alright.” He sat down, holding her close, wrapping his cloak around her so she was pressed to his own body heat. He rubbed her arms, trying to help the blood flow, but it did not work. She shook so violently it seemed she would break apart.
Gradually, the cold crept into his bones as well; holding her was like hugging an icicle. Just listening to her struggle for breath made him take great, gulping chestfuls, and she was turning blue.
There was no way she could bear much more of this, but he did not know how to help her.
Then, all of a sudden, it passed. She grew still, her breath came more easily, and wearily, she laid her head against his shoulder.
He felt her forehead and it was normal again. “What was that?” he whispered.
She lay exhausted, letting her breath come easily again. After a moment, she even sat up and started to pull off the many layers that encased her. Her strength was returning.
&n
bsp; “Are you sure?” asked Garrity, putting her on the ground and helping her take off her blanket and cloak.
“Yeah, I’m just a bit hot now,” she panted. Her skin was growing red, and in a moment of fear, he reached out to touch her again. Now she was hot as boiling water.
“Laven, you’re burning.”
“I know, I know…” She was moving restlessly, stripping off her outer dress so only the cotton layer was underneath. She pushed the clothes away, and then collapsed to the forest floor, her eyes rolling about in her head. Still she moved restlessly, clutching at her throat and her chest, her legs jerking spasmodically. Sweat poured down her body, but it did nothing. She felt like she was being burned alive in an oven, and as though all her air had been sucked away. Before, it had felt like it was her throat’s fault that she could not breathe, but now it seemed like it was the air’s.
Garrity was desperate, looking on more helpless than he had ever felt in his lfe.
Her movement only grew more intense, and her arms flailed about and her head jerked. Her legs kicked hard. She was going to do herself an injury with the fury of her movement, so he leaned forward and tried to still her, but she fought him with intense strength, pushing him away, her head lolling around like an infant who could not control its own motion.
Determined, he knelt over her, pinning her legs to the ground with his knees, and holding her arms with his elbows. He struggled to hold her head still between his hands, and could only barely do it with all his superhuman strength.
“Laven, please, you got through the last, you’ll get through this,” he heard himself begging, realizing half way through that he was speaking. His tears would have fallen on her had her head stayed still.
After forever, though it was two minutes in reality, this fit passed; and more quickly than it had begun, she was still.
Worn out, he climbed off and threw himself onto the leaves, shaking from the adrenaline and fear that coursed through him, even his superhuman strength exhausted.
Lavendier did not move for a long time, though she felt wholly well now, anxious that another attack would come over her; but after a time, she sat up, and reaching out, gently stroked his back.
“It’s alright,” she said. “It’s over now.”
He rolled over and looked up at her. She was still weak, but she looked healthier than he felt. With a moan, he sat up.
“You had the strength of a demi-god.”
“How? And how am I alive?”
His frown was deep, somber, sad, and his eyes swam. His thoughts were muddled and confused, and he was only glad that she looked back at him with living eyes.
“We have to find the others,” he said. “I don’t know, and we have to find the others.”
“The gorgans are gone now,” she said, and he looked at her sharply. She met his look apologetically. “I can feel it. They’re gone.”
“Don’t feel it,” he said harshly. “Don’t try.”
Leaving Lavendier armed with bow and arrow, and only going a few paces from her in each direction, Garrity finally found Adlena, Cila, Viol, and Jacian. They had taken refuge in the trees, and the gorgans had never found them.
Garrity was now convinced that Asbult had been right all along. The gorgans were organized and sweeping the land systematically, and if he turned their group around now to return to Drian, they would all be killed. They had to go on, for better or worse, and so they once again took up the journey, helping Lavendier to walk little distances at a time.
It was slower going and they rested far more often, but everyone was relieved to be moving again. They no longer felt like they were just sitting around, waiting to die.
Viol took the lead as guide and lookout so that Garrity could walk behind with Lavendier, who needed his constant presence. She was faint and weak, but the frightening attacks did not come back. She was able to keep them all safe by warning when gorgans were near, and they took detours, or stopped still when she told them. It seemed that feeling the presence of the gorgans would not always precede an attack, though Garrity was more terrified of another episode than he was of a search party. He begged Lavendier not to use the prescience, but she said she could not help it: she could feel them, whether she wanted to or not.
74
On the Edge of Conviction
Cila took up the rear of the group which, since it fostered her desire to be alone, was welcome, and thus it fell upon Jacian, as Garrity had explained it to him, to look after his mother. She was now six months progressed and her belly was extended, her back long-suffering, her ankles sore, and her energy low. It was her son’s responsibility not only to always walk and never expect to be carried anymore, but also to bring his mother water and food whenever she asked for it.
It was on the evening of the fifth day, since fleeing the cave, that they saw a brown mass stretch across the horizon, somber, cloudy, and dismal: Karaka.
Garrity called a halt and the ladies sat down with heavy hearts. He left them at the edge of the tree-line and ran ahead to a small rocky hill, with patches of scraggly grass struggling up between the cracks. He surveyed the gray/brown terrain that stretched far and flat before them, like an ocean of mud, waiting to suck you into its bottomless void. The land of Karaka was wet, wild, and weary, and beyond it, he knew, lay the yellow sands of the Great Desert. Even if they could traverse Karaka alive, without being detected, the Desert itself was death, and they would be soaked, then dried, then cooked before they ever reached the mighty yellow mountain peaks. If they did, somehow, manage to make it that far, drained of strength and drained of sense, the mountains would conquer them like a mountain lion leaping upon a maimed gazelle. And what lay beyond all this danger and death – only hope. Asbult would have understood the territory – he might have known how to prepare, the best and safest paths to take, but Garrity was only an ignorant, hopeless mortal, without conviction.
No more would there be the comforting protection of woods, the cool breezes from streams and lakes, water to drink, or food to scavenge. The air would be damp, humid, and drizzly, then hot, dusty, and arid, and the going forever treacherous.
As he stood alone on the outcropping, despairing in his uncertainty, whirling in his thoughts like a man drowning in a whirlpool, a hand slipped quietly into his, and he was not surprised. Viol always sensed when he was in need of comfort, though he had never told her anything about his personal scars and fears. But she knew and often came, and so he held tight.
Finally, he turned around, and nearly jumped out of his skin to see Lavendier, not Viol, standing behind him. She was pale as a sheet from walking up the hill, and she was forcing herself to stand.
“What – sit!” He lowered her onto a rock and squatted beside her. “You shouldn’t be up here.” His voice was angry, but his eyes were filled with concern.
“I was trying to think of someone besides myself,” she said abashedly. “I thought you might need someone to hold on to – that prospect is too depressing.”
“Well,” he said with annoyance, “sometimes you do have to think about yourself.”
She leaned forward and put her hand on his arm. “Are you alright?”
“No,” he took a deep breath. “No, I am not.”
“So tell me,” she begged. “I don’t understand without words and I want you to tell me.”
He sighed and lowered himself onto the stony ground beside her. “My thoughts are not pleasant.”
“Whatever you want to tell me. Maybe it will help. I can tell you dread our journey, and you told me you do not believe there is a haven on the other side.”
“If I could believe it, maybe it would be easier, but that is not the problem. In order to get there, we need to cross Karaka. I have to take all of you across the doorstep of the enemy. We don’t know who he is, or his powers. We’re betting against forces we don’t understand.” He gritted his clenched jaw and closed his fists, and his breathing came fast for a moment. It was not easy to speak his thoughts aloud; he
took a breath: deep in, held it, and released.
“When I left my mother’s home, I made a vow to protect the weak. She preyed on the lives of the innocent, using them for her own gain, so when I broke free of her, I made a vow to protect anyone weaker than I. And now I struggle because… because I don’t know how to follow that vow. Taking your sisters and nephew, taking you, across that land,” he pointed toward the stretch of mud, the defiled land of the enemy, “goes against everything I do believe in. And I am not sure any of us will survive.”
“I know,” she whispered. “But that did not stop Merciec or Asbult. They kept going – even though they might die. I am willing to do that too.”
“I know you are, but the question is whether it’s worth it. I really do not know anymore.”
“You do know.”
He looked at her a long time, meeting her eyes so full of pain, so free now of any taint of selfishness or pride. His heart expanded, and his chest ached. Looking at her was dangerous; it cracked walls around his heart that he had built long ago. But he liked looking all the same.
Finally, he turned away and nodded. “Yes, I do. We must go on. But I so want to go somewhere, anywhere, else. I want to go home.”
She smiled a little. “I’ve never heard you call it that before.”
He shrugged. “I never thought of it that way before.”
Garrity was not an old man, but when people looked at him, they got the impression of age and boundless maturity. Lavendier had known that he was younger than he looked, but suddenly, she felt it. She saw a vulnerability in his eye that perhaps no one had ever seen before.
“There’s nothing for it but to keep going. You are right.” He smiled and extended his hands to lift her up. “We have come this far, we will go all the way.”
She nodded. “Yes.” She smiled encouragingly. “Now?”
“First thing in the morning.”
She took his hand, and together, they went back to the others.
***
It was that evening that the attacks returned: as before, she started by shivering with cold. Garrity was tending the fire when Viol cried out for him to look at Lavendier, and looking at her, his heart sank like a stone.
Trinian Page 34