by Jackie Dana
He swallowed, but when he spoke again, his voice cracked slightly. ”Who told you such things?”
“You don’t deny them?”
“Ahh...” The Dosedra, choked with frustration, raised his arms in the air, curling his hands into fists that would pound the murky clouds above him. His actions caused her to flinch, and she thought he would strike her. Then he let his hands drop. “You have it all wrong, Bhara. I never abandoned anyone.” He shook his head, unwilling to go into further details. “And I’m certainly not looking to be called a hero.”
“Whatever. I heard differently.”
“What did—” he began, but stopped, and instead just said, “what you heard was a lie, but I am not here to argue the point.”
“So why are you here, then?” she challenged him. She had no idea why she was pressing the issue, but she continued anyway. “If you have nothing to hide, why are you in the middle of a swamp, running from the Senvosra?”
“Nay, Bhara, it will not go that way. I shall not answer any more of your questions until you explain why you are following me.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. Why would I want to follow you? I don’t even know you.”
He snorted derisively. “If you’re not following me, then how did you come to be in the torrapon the night when I met with Fantion and Sander?”
“What are you talking about? I never—” Suddenly the memory of laying in the grass came vividly back to her, so clearly that she even remembered the voices of the men who found her, and the soft blanket one of them had used to cover her... a blanket that was exactly like the cloak she now wrapped tightly around herself. Even now, she caught the scent of rosemary in her nostrils. “That was you?”
He raised an eyebrow, as if surprised by her response. “Aye, of course. I carried you back to Loraden even as I returned home myself, and the guards at the gate said they would see you safely home. I assumed, from the way you looked at me at the quantrill, that you remembered me but didn’t want anyone to know.”
She sighed, suddenly feeling deflated. It explained why the men had acted so strangely when she entered the inn, and even why he had ignored her at the quantrill. “I had no idea. I only remember bits and pieces from that night.” Seeing the skepticism in his eyes, she reiterated, “honestly, no one told me a thing. If I had only known that it had been you...” Now she was annoyed for an entirely different reason.
He nodded once. “Then why were you in Bhoren?”
Her brain was working hard to piece everything together. No wonder he thought she was following him. Suddenly she was angry that no one—particularly Rynar—had shared this piece of information with her. Had she known, their interaction at the inn might have gone much differently.
“Look, as I said last night,” she began, “I only went into the tavern so I could get out of the rain. I had no idea who you were until I saw you at the quantrill. I certainly would have had no reason to follow you.” It was the truth. She hoped it would be enough.
He snorted again, perhaps a little amused, but also clearly doubtful of her story. “It makes for a good tale, Bhara, but I’m not so easily fooled. Even if you had left the city immediately after the quantrill, you could never have reached Bhoren so quickly unless you traveled with Senvosra. Even the four of us, riding hard, had only arrived earlier in the day.” He folded his arms across his chest and shook his head, his mind made up. “I just wish I could determine why you refuse to speak the truth.”
Nyvas overheard their conversation as he walked by to fetch another flask from his saddlebag. “She did not ride from Loraden,” he said confidently. Coming closer, he added, “Arric, surely you remember the story of Imryll, who flew between the furthest-most points of Sarducia in just one day?”
“That’s nothing but a legend, Nyvas.” The Dosedra rubbed at his eyes, exhaustion rapidly claiming him. “Do not make excuses for her. The only explanation is that she’s working for my brother.”
“Nay, not him.” Nyvas countered confidently, and knelt beside them. “She is definitely here for a reason, but not in Bedoric’s service. I do not see any signs that she will betray us. If she had intended to do so, she would have done so by giving you up to the Senvosra back at the inn.” He looked into her eyes. “My guess is that she’s been caught up in matters she scarcely understands, and is doing her best to make sense of it all—just as you are doing.” As she nodded to him, he smiled quickly and then turned back to Arric. “I mentioned the story of Imryll because I think it could explain how she got here.”
“What do you mean?” Arric asked.
As he continued, Nyvas seemed much older than his appearance suggested. “As you recall, Imryll did not believe in the gods of our land, and challenged all the people’s most sacred beliefs. One day he defied the gods and entered a torrapon alone, trying to show his village that there was no power within the stones. For such a transgression, the gods decided to teach him a lesson. As a display of their power, they sent him to each of the four corners of the island in a single day. After that, he became a disciple of the gods and, as tradition says, he was the first Sarnoc.”
Dosedra Arric sighed and rubbed at his eyes. “Aye, I know the legend, and truth be told, it would bear repeating in Loraden these days. Still, what could it possibly have to do with her?”
Still kneeling, Nyvas offered her the flask. “She had to travel somehow. It makes more sense to think she traveled via torrapon than to imagine she walked—or rode—” he added in jest, referring to her difficulty mounting the horse, “all the way there. After all, you found her in a torrapon the last time, did you not? And there is a torrapon just outside Bhoren.”
She stared at him, speechless that he had figured it out—in fact, he seemed to understand more than she did. The Dosedra, however, kept shaking his head as if he didn’t believe a word.
“Arric, most people dismiss tales of Sarnoc powers, but I know you think differently. And if I’m right—” he said, again looking into her eyes, until she was forced to turn away, “then there’s a lot more at work here than just the ambitious graspings of your older brother.”
“Bah, that’s all preposterous. I appreciate the different perspective, Nyvas, but the simplest explanation is that she’s a spy.”
“Perhaps,” the boy conceded, “but I think that for now, we should give her the benefit of a doubt.”
The Dosedra threw up his hands in defeat, and abruptly pushed himself to his feet. “Fine. If you wish to trust her, then so be it. I’m going to sleep.”
Chapter 22
“Why don’t you ask him why he returned?”
“Hmm?” she replied, half-asleep. It was still dark, and she could barely make out the features of the man crouched down beside her. As exhausted as she had been, she had slept poorly on the ground, and despite being wrapped up in the Dosedra’s woolen cloak, she had been shivering most of the night. All of that, and the ache in her legs, didn’t put her in the best of moods. “What in the world are you talking about?” she mumbled, as she pulled the cloak over her head.
“You should ask Arric why he returned to Sarducia,” he said softly.
Slowly she processed the fact that it was Nyvas beside her. She squeezed her eyes shut and pried them open again. Then she shook her head and propped herself up, with her elbow on the ground and her chin leaning on her palm. Really, all she wanted was to go back to sleep. “I appreciate your wanting to help, but—” she hesitated, and looked to either side of her. None of the other men were on their bedrolls, and in fact, the blankets appeared to already be packed up. “Honestly, while I’ll take your word for it that he’s not an evil man, it’s not that easy for me to move on, after everything I’ve seen and heard. It doesn’t help that he’s convinced I’m a spy.”
To her surprise, rather than upset him, her comment made Nyvas smile. He reached over and squeezed her shoulder lightly. “Just remember what I said,” he urged her, and with that he walked over to where Lysander was cooking breakfast over t
he fire.
“Ugh.” It felt like she had just fallen asleep, and she wondered how it could already be morning. For several minutes, she remained wrapped in the cloak and stared at the sky, which offered up no indication that the sun was rising any time soon. When she finally decided to get up, the muscles in the backs of her legs were tight and painful, her hips and thighs ached in unexpected ways, and it was difficult to walk. Just the idea of sitting on a horse made her wish she were dead. She stumbled to the branch where Lysander had hung up her dress last night, and then she disappeared into the trees, where she took care of her personal needs and then got dressed.
When she returned to the fire, Lysander handed her a cup with warm porridge, and as she took it, he placed his other hand on hers for a moment. He was trying to be kind, she realized, and didn’t pull away, allowing the warmth of his touch to seep into her skin. The gesture helped restore a bit of her confidence and energized her somewhat, though she was still too tired to converse with anyone, so she just nodded her head to him and sat down to eat. As she took the first bite of the sticky paste, she grimaced, but she ate it just the same. Despite its unappealing consistency, it didn’t taste too bad, and it did take the edge off her hunger pangs.
Meanwhile, Lysander seemed cheerful enough, humming to himself as he returned to the fire and scraped the rest of the porridge into his own cup and then used a bit of water from his flask to rinse out the pot. Nyvas also appeared refreshed and ready to tackle another day’s journey. A few minutes later, emerging from the woods with Fantion, the Dosedra took a seat across from her, at edge of the fire. He too looked worn out, his dark head sagging on his shoulders as if he barely had the energy to hold it up. Even his hair, newly-washed in a nearby creek, hung limply at his shoulders. Fantion sat beside him, eating his own porridge, but did not appear to share his friend’s fatigue.
When it was time to depart, the Dosedra quietly announced that she would again ride with him. She wondered why he had changed his mind, but with a shrug, she agreed, and allowed him to lift her onto the horse. She hurt so much in so many different places that she didn’t have the spirit left to protest.
They rode for a while without a single word passing between them. She couldn’t address what had been said the night before. Although she continued to ponder Nyvas’s suggestion, she had no idea how to raise the subject, and had no inspiration for alternate conversation. Making things easier, at least, the Dosedra likewise remained silent.
Twice they had to dismount to maneuver through thick trees, and she was careful to keep her distance, both to avoid conversation and so he wouldn’t notice her limping. Each time it was possible to ride again, the Dosedra called out to her to join him, and without speaking she mechanically went through the steps to climb onto the horse. At least by now she had figured out how to mount the horse with only minimal assistance.
The second time, once they were again on horseback, he finally broke the tense silence between them. “Bhara, I have a matter to discuss with you, if you’re willing to humor me.”
“What is it?” she asked, defensively, uneasy about the direction the conversation would take.
He sucked in a breath, as if it was no easier for him to talk to her than it was for her to reply. “You say you’re new to Sarducia, yet it appears you were easily convinced to see me as an enemy. Was it the Aldrish that turned you against me, and if so, could you tell me what he told you?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she hedged.
He was undeterred. “We are well past playing games, Bhara. I know you were the Aldrish’s personal guest in the keep, and that he escorted you to the quantrill. I know little of the man myself, but what I do know is enough to make me question his motives. You may keep whatever secrets you are bound to honor. I simply wish to know what he has said about me.”
The question made her uncomfortable, and she hesitated. The question required her to make judgment calls she felt unqualified to make, and to take sides in a conflict in which she preferred to remain neutral. But she had to tell him something, so she stuck to the truth. “There really isn’t much to say. I heard about how you left to fight in some war after your brother became Vosira, but then abandoned your men, and disappeared. No one knew you were still alive until you showed up in the city.”
“I see.” By the way he snapped the reins once, she sensed he was becoming impatient. “What did the Aldrish say about me leaving Loraden?”
Would he throw her off the horse if she said the wrong thing? Or something even worse? An involuntary shiver ran across her shoulders and down her back. Rynar had warned her that the Dosedra could be dangerous. “Do we really need to talk about this now?”
Without warning, the horse stopped so suddenly that she was amazed that she didn’t fly right over Trill’s head. “Do not play games with me. You cannot deny your association with the Aldrish. Before we go any further, you must explain how you came to be his guest in Loraden and what he has told you about me.”
“Why?” It was her turn to lose her patience. “What does it matter?”
“Bhara,” he said, spoken as if there was gravel between his teeth, “What does the Aldrish know about my journey, and why did he send you?”
“Don’t you understand? I don’t know any of that. And I wasn’t looking for you—I just ended up here. I don’t even know why I’m in Sarducia, and even the Sarnoc can’t explain it.”
He sucked in a breath, and then, in a softer tone than he had ever used with her, asked, “you spoke to Sarnoc?”
Did she dare tell him the truth? She quickly weighed the pros and cons in her head, and decided to take a chance. “The Aldrish sent me out of Loraden after you left. The next thing I knew, my trip was diverted and I was meeting with Sarnoc and the Pasadhi. And then I ended up here. Honestly, it makes no more sense to me than it does to you.”
“Hmm.” He flicked the reigns lightly to coax his horse forward again. They rode in silence for a while, and she felt sick to her stomach.
Finally he broke the silence again. “Bhara, even if everything you say is true—and I’m not saying I believe you—one fact remains. You were terrified when you realized it was me back at the inn. Why is that?”
She felt like there was chalk in her mouth. “Rynar told me that you might be dangerous.”
“Did he, now?” He breathed loudly, causing her to tense up. After a few moments, he asked, more softly, “did you truly believe I would hurt you?”
“I—I don’t know. I guess so. I didn’t know what to think then—” or, she realized, what to think now. She could feel her heart racing, and really wanted to climb off the horse.
“Huh.” In a surprise gesture, he placed his left hand lightly on her forearm. “I appreciate your courage in telling me this.” Then he lifted his hand to her chin, and gently guided it to the right, so she would turn her head, and he leaned out so they could almost have eye contact. “I swear to you, Bhara, in the name of the goddess Kerthal—if you’re being honest now, you have nothing to fear from me.” He guided Trill around a rocky outcropping, choosing to go left even though it seemed clear to the right. As they passed by, she noticed that a tree had fallen directly over the other path. “The stories about me are untrue. While I’ll be the first to admit that I’ve done a great many things I’m ashamed of,” he shifted his weight in the saddle, pulling away from her slightly. “I’ve never abandoned anyone under my command, or harmed anyone outside of battle.”
“Why does everyone say that you did, then?”
“Well,” he said, “it’s not an easy story for me to tell, Bhara, but—” He hesitated. “It’s a fair trade, for sharing what you’ve told me.” He flicked the reins once, and Trill began moving again. “First of all, I made some grievous mistakes as a young man, and running away to Hansar—to the Queen, no less—was probably the worst of them all. At the time, I jumped at the chance to lead the Queen’s forces against the Mosumi rebels. I had the opportunity to do something I th
ought was important, I didn’t have to watch my brother become Vosira, and at the time, it seemed like a way to get my revenge on him for how he had treated me. So I went to Froida, where I was scarcely more than a mercenary, though for a short time I did command the troops the Queen had convinced my fool brother to send over.” He shifted his weight on the saddle before continuing. “The night of that battle, when they said I ran away, we had been fighting the Mosumi for several days in the snow. There is no way for me to know how bad the battle really was, or how many died that night, because…” he raised his hand, and when she turned her head again, out of the corner of her eye she watched him rub the scar on his forehead. “He came out of nowhere with that axe. I should have died, Bhara. The blade cut deep into my skull. I should have died right there, and a part of me wishes I had. But I didn’t.”
He fell silent for a moment, and reached back into the saddlebag for his flask. He first offered it to her, but she shook her head. After he drank for a moment, he corked it and returned it to the saddlebag.
When he didn’t continue, she gently prompted him. “What happened?”
“Forgive me for hesitating, but I’ve only told the story once before, to Fantion and the others. It’s not an easy tale to tell, and not something that I would tell to a stranger.”
“Please tell me.”
He hesitated, and for a moment it seemed like he wasn’t going to comply. Then he cleared his throat, and a little hoarsely he continued. “I was certain the god Yoren had come to claim me, for all around me there was this blinding light and music. That is all I can remember, the light and music. Then it was spring, just like that. The rest of winter had just passed me by as I lay there, with a mortal wound that—wasn’t. And when I woke, it was with the Mosumi in Froida. They had healed me. After everything I had done to them, all of the men I had killed—they healed me.”