by Jim Galford
As Phaesys threw another punch at Oria, she ducked his arm, hooking his wrist as she did. She put her weight into pulling back against his shoulder, just barely finding enough strength to overcome and bring his arm behind his back. Locking it high on his back while grabbing his other shoulder to keep him from moving, Oria leaned in close to whisper in his ear.
“I’m not going anywhere,” she hissed, tightening her grip on his wrist to make him wince. “If I die anytime soon, it will be at my mother and father’s sides.”
Clenching his jaw until Oria could see the muscles along his neck tremble, Phaesys wrenched himself free of her grip, snapping his shoulder in the process. She was so shocked that he would risk dislocating his shoulder to break free that Oria was unable to react in time as he spun, locking his good arm around her neck and stepping behind her, pulling her against his chest.
Oria struggled against Phaesys, but he was simply too strong. Her mind scrambled for options and she realized she could reach back and tear into his stomach with her claws. He was not wearing his armor, so she knew she could cut as deeply as she wanted. He would bleed out in minutes, but it would free her of his control.
She brought her arms back, her fingers resting on Phaesys’ stomach, but Oria could not bring herself to finish the attack. Slowly, she let her arms drop.
“Please,” Phaesys whispered near her ear, his arm around her neck making it difficult for Oria to breathe. “Please just go.”
Twisting and trying to free herself without success, Oria finally demanded, “Why? What do you get out of me leaving my family to die without me?”
“I get to know you’re alive and safe. I need that.”
The fight went out of Oria and she relaxed into Phaesys’ grip. One second it had been a hold meant to control a foe, the next, she felt as though Phaesys was hugging her to him. The tension faded from both of their muscles and he no longer used his strength to keep her from escaping.
“What about your betrothed?” asked Oria, intending the question to be teasing, but it came out far more serious than that.
“People change.”
Oria wanted to whimper. She felt incredibly helpless and disarmed by the conversation.
“Don’t make me choose between my family and your feelings,” she told him, resting her hands on the arm still around her neck. Oria let her fingers drift over his muscles and wondered, if the fight went badly, if she really could watch him die. “I am going. Neither you or my parents can stop me.”
“Why, Oria? Why do you have to do this?”
Turning her head so that her muzzle rested against his, she closed her eyes and took a long breath. “Every person I knew before coming here died to these creatures. The people I looked up to, the children I played with, even the elderly…every single one is dead now, or marching in an army controlled by the Turessians. I was too young to help them. Now, I’m not. I’m nearly an adult and I can help…maybe even turn the tide.”
Phaesys sighed and rested his face against hers.
“I do not want to see you die,” he told her, his voice nearly inaudible.
“Then we agree not to die,” said Oria, smiling back at him.
Someone clearing their throat nearby made Oria look up, breaking the tenderness of the moment instantly.
Seated on the hillside that led out of the sheltered area, Estin watched Oria with an unreadable stare. At his feet were the weapons they had cast aside before fighting. Though Estin appeared relaxed, Oria noted that he had both of his swords at his sides and his tail slid across the sands snake-like, as though he were deep in thought.
“Oria,” Estin called out when she looked at him. “Go help your mother with the kits, please.”
“Dad…”
“I said ‘please.’ Now go.”
Sliding free of Phaesys’ arm, Oria ran past her father, grabbing her knives from the ground as she went.
The whole way back to the den, Oria felt as though her head was spinning. The conversation with Phaesys had been unexpected and made her wonder both about his feelings and her own. She had thought of Phaesys as a friend—at least, as much of a friend as she had ever really had. She had joked with him, mostly at his expense, about a relationship, or the appearance of one. She had never been serious about that, though. Now, she had to question whether she could keep joking like that without hurting him. It all felt surreal.
Hurrying back down into the den, Oria found the place quieter than she would have expected. The kits and the noise that came with them were gone, as was Lorne. Their scent was still fresh, so they were not long-gone, but she had not seen them coming in.
Seated on the other side of the cold fire-pit, Feanne had her hands clasped together in her lap, watching as Oria entered. The new outfit she had made for herself left her arms uncovered, exposing the scars that mirrored Estin’s on her left arm, as well as new ones from the whipping. Even her legs—where the long-hanging leather-and-fur loincloth did not cover—showed many thin scars that stood out in the red or black fur.
Oria had always tried to ignore her mother’s scars. Revering Feanne required Oria to believe she was invincible. Those scars told a different story. Now, they were hard to avoid, as though something in the lighting of the room emphasized them. Deep down, Oria wondered just how many of them had been earned protecting herself and her brother.
“Sit down,” her mother said, unmoving.
Shoulders sinking as she contemplated what she might be in trouble for, Oria obediently took a seat on the ground across from Feanne.
“You are considering taking Phaesys as a mate,” Feanne said, as though it was a foregone conclusion. “Have you thought this through?”
Oria’s mind darted through excuses and arguments, but when she looked at her mother, she could not bring them to her mouth. Feanne looked tired, but not angry.
“I hadn’t put it in quite those terms yet,” Oria answered sheepishly. “I wouldn’t say that I haven’t considered it, though.”
Feanne nodded, as though she was unsurprised. “Do you understand what will happen when I meet his father again?”
Swallowing hard, Oria answered, “You’ll kill him.”
“Yes. Are you and he prepared for that? I will not hold back, just because you want that particular male.”
“I wouldn’t ask you to. If he’s worth my attention, he’ll understand.”
Feanne smiled back at Oria, then absently brushed at the scars on her shoulder with her other hand.
“We all make mistakes that may end up for the best,” Feanne continued, almost sounding like she was talking to herself. “I ask that you at least wait on any decision until after we reclaim Corraith from the Turessian. Doing anything else will cloud your thoughts and endanger everyone during that battle.”
Oria’s skin prickled with embarrassment.
“I’m not quite four, mom,” she answered, her ears flattening back as she glanced back to be sure Phaesys had not snuck in. “Nothing’s going to happen.”
“We had several females that had chosen their mates before they were declared adults back at the pack,” her mother told her. Feanne’s total lack of modesty in conversation had never bothered Oria before, but it had also never been aimed at her previously. “You would not be the first. I just ask that you guard your feelings for a while yet. I would not have you commit yourself to anything in a hurry, only to lose him if things go poorly. Contemplating your own death is easier than worrying about a lover’s.”
Shivering despite the heat in the den, Oria looked her mother in the eyes, asking, “Do you think we might lose him…or anyone…if we face Arturis?”
“I would expect deaths in any fight with a Turessian, Oria. Hopefully, we can avoid a direct confrontation for a while, but when we do face him, I know that I expect to die. If you go with us, you should expect the same. It helps one set aside fear if you have no belief that you will live.”
Footfalls behind Oria made her clamp her mouth shut, biting back any rep
lies she had.
Phaesys came into the den, carrying his sword in his off-hand, while his right arm hung limply at his side. The shoulder was not swollen, so Oria had to guess that Estin had at least partially healed it. As loudly as it had popped, it likely would have looked much worse if he had not.
Following Phaesys, Estin came into the den, his eyes not leaving Phaesys until he had gone around and sat down beside Feanne. The two shared a brief look that told Oria nothing.
“We should get some rest,” Estin told the group. “Lorne and the kits should be back in about an hour from collecting water. We leave early tomorrow, and just in case we’re caught entering the city I want everyone at their best.”
Getting up, Oria began to move toward her bedding, but stopped as she watched Phaesys pick up a blanket from her pile and go over to a spot about ten feet from where she slept. He said nothing as he curled up under the cloth.
Oria slid onto her own bedding, pulling the furs and blankets over herself. She was unable to sleep for a long time, watching the dark corner where Phaesys lay. As the light faded in the den, long after Lorne and the kits came back, she watched for the gleam of Phaesys’ eyes in the dark, but he never looked her way.
When Oria did finally sleep, it was restless and often interrupted by nightmares. Each time she woke, Oria reached out for Phaesys, thinking he would be nearby, but kept pulling back handfuls of sand. All night, she had fitful dreams of Phaesys being killed by Arturis, or of Estin keeping her away from him.
Chapter Eleven
“The Return”
Decisions, no matter how trivial, have a way of creating a slippery slope that can alter the course of your life. Any decision can do this. Once you begin down that path, even attempts to retreat from the decision will not necessarily undo what has started.
It can be as simple as choosing to eat a mouse for breakfast, rather than the bread you have on-hand. A more mundane choice, I can hardly think of. While you are out there catching the mouse, you just barely avoid a wagon you didn’t see coming. That wagon’s driver loses track of what they were doing and drifts off the road, clipping a cart nearby. That cart, in turn, flips onto the merchant manning it, killing her. By choosing mouse over bread, you just killed a woman you never knew existed.
This can lead us to fear about making decisions at all. That was where I was when I met Feanne. I would have rather gone on just barely eking out a life of subsistence, rather than make any hard choices. It certainly wasn’t as well thought out as this explanation, but I believe it was very similar. I dreaded what might come of getting caught, such as being sold as a slave, or worse.
Once we came to Corraith, that changed a little. I had three little children to concern myself with and two that were nearly adults…and would likely be the ones reading this. I had to make the decisions, whether I wanted to or not, and live with the consequences.
I had learned earlier in my life a little about what Feanne meant by “no regrets.” I applied that idea liberally to the meeting of her and everything I went through to keep her in my life. Despite that, I don’t think I truly understood what it meant beyond that limited scope.
Returning to Corraith would test the bounds of what that phrase meant.
Estin led the long walk across the early morning desert, trying not to look back at the line of wildlings that followed him. When he had earlier, he had seen internalized misery on most of the faces, sapping his own will to go on.
His mate, he at least understood. Returning to the city was a difficult decision for Feanne, as the last time they had gone there the family had been separated. Additionally, though she would not say it, Estin could see that she was still a little weaker than she would have liked. She was probably scared that she could not fight as well as she needed to and that fear was bleeding off onto the kits, who had whined and complained from the moment they had woken.
Near Feanne, Lorne walked along silently, having said little to anyone all morning. She was the only one that Estin could not get at least some feel for. It had been almost two days since she had been willing to talk to anyone other than the kits. She was distant, but seemed a little happier for returning to the city. Whatever was nagging at her was not something she was ready to share.
At the far rear of the group walked Atall. Each day, Estin had seen the boy’s mood descend further, but he refused to talk about what had happened or what he was thinking. Like he did with most emotional matters, Atall was bottling up his feelings, until they were too much for him to handle.
The more Atall slipped away, the more Estin worried about him. He knew full well what a loss like his could do to a person and Estin wanted dearly to find a way to help him. He had tried talking to Atall more than once, but Atall was unwilling or unable to discuss Arlin, or their relationship before her death.
Of all the people in the group, Oria was the one Estin knew without a doubt was upset and it was entirely with him.
When they had woken, Oria had refused to speak to Estin at all during the morning meal. She had been the first one ready to walk, shouldering her way past Phaesys on her way outside. Estin knew what was bothering her, but was not ready to confront her about it. She needed time to understand why he had talked to Phaesys and see that it was for their own good.
Much like Feanne’s discussion with Oria, Estin had not intended to prevent the relationship, but rather to slow it down until times were a little safer for everyone. Though Estin had wanted to outright forbid Oria and Phaesys from getting any closer than they were already—at least until she turned of age—he knew it would never work with any child of Feanne’s. The girl would rebel out of instinct, whether Phaesys liked it or not.
That thought made Estin glance over his shoulder toward Phaesys, who was just a step or two behind him.
The younger wildling kept his hood drawn to cover his features—something he had mentioned could be a concern in the city—occasionally rolling his shoulder to keep it from stiffening. Though Phaesys gave no indication of being angry with Estin, he was not happy. That much was clear.
They had talked quite bluntly about his relationship with Oria the night before and Estin had thought it went well. Phaesys had admitted, though somewhat reluctantly, that he was falling in love with Oria, but was the first to say that he felt it was moving too quickly in that direction. Estin had been loath to disagree. They had eventually begun talking about Phaesys’ people and how they handled such situations.
“Honestly, I do not know what to do,” Phaesys had admitted, giving Estin a pleading stare. “By family honor, I should be married to someone else…but I’m having doubts.”
“What do you feel in your heart is the right thing to do?” he had asked in return, while healing Phaesys’ shoulder. “Don’t trust honor to always make sense, especially when it comes to emotions.”
Phaesys had looked deeply pained as he considered that, finally replying, “The right thing to do would be to break off my betrothal, even if nothing goes any farther with Oria. I just don’t know how to do that, with my wife-to-be missing. By our laws, I cannot be with another until I call off the betrothal, though doing that dishonors me greatly.”
“Then leave it at that until you figure it out,” Estin had insisted, as the swelling came down to a reasonable level in Phaesys’ shoulder. “Give her some space and decide what you need to do. I don’t think Oria will go anywhere without you while you sort through this.”
“Is this your wish?”
“It is,” Estin had answered.
“I agree, then. I will be more respectful, while I think through how to do what is right. Thank you, Estin.”
That had been that and Estin had considered the matter resolved pleasantly, with no threats of death or pleading for Phaesys not to touch his daughter. All in all, it was a good conversation, but Phaesys appeared to be taking Oria’s reaction far worse than the actual choice. To make matters worse, neither Phaesys nor Oria appeared to have slept at all during the night.
> “You watch me as though you expect me to strike at you,” said Phaesys, his hood still low enough that Estin was surprised he knew he had been watched.
“Just wondering how you’re taking our discussion yesterday.”
Lifting his head, Phaesys answered, “I already knew that our feelings were dangerous for both of us. You just made that more…firm.”
Estin watched Phaesys a little longer, but he said nothing more, eventually lowering his head again. He was willing to take the blame, at least for a while. Perhaps when they found a safe place to stay they could approach the issue again soon and Estin might be able to ease the restrictions on the two, within reason. Before even considering that, he wanted to have a long talk with Feanne about letting their children grow up.
Then again, he was tempted to stall on that…maybe two months. A little longer would not be unreasonable, either. Certainly no more than ten years. So long as Oria was not allowed any alone time with a male, Estin had one less thing to concern himself with.
The group trudged on, following Estin’s winding path back to Corraith. They had nearly circled the city, covering any chance of being followed back to the den. It was a precaution Feanne had insisted on, even if they did not intend to return to that hole in the ground.
By midday, the city walls were close and Estin pulled his tail close to his body to hide the striping, just in case Arturis had anyone looking for him, though its bulk made it impossible to hide his race. Checking on the rest of the group, he saw that they had all raised their hoods and Feanne had picked up the kits, draping a white sheet over them that would look to anyone in the city like she was just sheltering them from the sun, rather than concealing their identity.
Approaching the city guards, Estin very nearly held his breath as the elven man glanced under his hood. The soldier then looked over the others with Estin, his eyes lingering on Oria and then a long time on Phaesys.