Fastest, kneeling beside her cot with his bowl of clay, rose swiftly. Sister Mary Josephine loomed over Carole, hands on hips in a familiar gesture remembered from childhood. Carole could only assume shoving a Priest had caused it. Fastest hooked his arm through one of Sister Mary Josephine’s elbows and none too gently turned the nun towards the doorway, tugging her width through the narrow opening. The leather hide swayed from their passing.
“Don’t try to sit up. You look ready to pass out again. I’m afraid my healing isn’t comparable to Rutak’s. Sip this.” Joseph pressed a cup to her lips, and Carole sipped several bitter mouthfuls before turning her head, sensing a sedative. She had too many questions to sleep.
It worked quickly, warming her veins and numbing her lips, but she fought it, needing answers. “How do you heal? Rutak healed my gunshot wound, overnight!”
Joseph exhaled a breath, and Carole felt the anxiety the mention of her gunshot wound caused. It grazed his heart like a real bullet.
“It’s just prayer. Prayer works. Everyone can do it to an extent. Rutak was unusually proficient, even for one of our kind. I’m not nearly as talented.”
“I felt the strength of your prayers,” Carole argued, trying to sit up.
“Well, yes. As I said, most of us can do it. Don’t strain yourself, be still. You’ve lost too much blood. I’m not that talented at healing, so you’re going to have to rest. I’m afraid my gifting lies elsewhere.”
Despite Joseph’s command, and the voices advice that she heed it, Carole continued to struggle to sit up. “Gifting? What is a gifting?” Firmly grasping the rope mattress beneath her, she used it to push herself up. The room seemed to spin uncomfortably to the left, and her arms felt too weak to hold her up, spots of grey blotted out her vision. A split second before her head slammed back against the cot, the voices intoned, “It is disrespectful not to obey your father.”
CAROLE DREAMED THAT her blankets turned to metal that night. Beth was caught beneath them too, and kept trying to tie her shoes. Bleeding from his heart, Ted watched from a helicopter, ignoring the blood soaking the front of his uniform. He appeared to be trying to reach them.
The dream changed and Carole became a little boy with long dark hair, running barefoot in the sunny desert beneath the veil. Rutak rubbed orange clay on his sore feet, and called him Nomno. All the kids from the tribe begged for Nomno to live in their huts. Ted’s helicopter hovered overhead, but Carole didn’t care now. She liked being that little boy. Nomno had four puppies, but a rattlesnake bit one, and him, and Rutak healed Nomno but the puppy died. Carole cried.
Sister Mary Josephine came to take the little boy to the orphanage and he cried then. The puppies couldn’t come. Rutak said the rocks wanted Nomno to go now, and Rutak gave him a new name. He wasn’t Nomno anymore, he was Joseph Tural. So in her dream Carole stopped being Nomno and became Joseph Tural too. Joseph had to live at the same orphanage she once had, and carry trash down to the same incinerator in the same church basement just like Carole used to.
Joseph didn’t mind the incinerator, the orphanage, or any of the rules, and he liked people. He prayed for them a lot and shot right up into the sky when he did, floating through the heavens to talk to ilu about people he loved. Carole liked flying with Joseph though she knew it was just in his head, and that she was really still Carole trapped on the ground, under her metal blankets, while the voices told her she was going to burn up and die.
There were paintings in the north porch of the church where Joseph worked. They were orange, yellow, and red, like the desert under the veil. Those paintings reminded Joseph of his flying time with ilu. It was his job to put a drop cloth down when the artist came, and to carry buckets of water and clean the brushes afterwards. He came early one day, and the artist was still painting. It was a girl. Her hair was covered with a paint splattered bandana, and she wore a big ugly denim dress filthy with splotches of bright paint. It didn’t matter because Joseph felt the girl’s heart.
Only she wasn’t a girl, she was a young woman, and Joseph wasn’t a boy anymore either. He was a man now. She had a car and they left together. Somehow Joseph remembered how to get to the veil, and they went there, to the desert, to be together. Her name was Keight and without the bandana and dress she looked like a painting herself. Joseph remembered to tell her that he would become a Priest later that year. It was too late now for Keight to reject him because of that, but she said she wouldn’t have anyway.
Rutak didn’t mind Joseph and Keight being there, and gave them a shady hut to live in for the summer. Keight painted on the walls inside, and they played in the desert in the mornings. They had puppies and each other, and every day was perfect. Sister Mary Josephine came with Keight’s mother when it was time to become a Priest and fly to ilu all of the time. Carole recognized her Gran and she cried with happiness. Joseph didn’t, he said he was sorry to Keight’s mother and called her Mother Klare. Gran told him not to be stupid and put Going to the Chapel by The Dixie Cups into his head with dancing rainbow lights. It made Carole cry harder, but Joseph laughed and so did Keight. Keight said goodbye to Joseph, kissed his cheek, and hopped into the big green car with the silver fins and drove off into the desert.
Joseph was flying with ilu then, telling Him about the people who needed Him, but a little girl shouted Happy Easter at him, and he fell back to earth, landing on his knees, hard. Keight and Klare had gone to live with ilu, and someone was shooting at his little girl. Ted and Beth were in the helicopter together. Ted was bleeding horribly. It ran out the open door of the aircraft and dripped all the way to the ground to land on Carole. Beth perched precariously at the edge of the doorway sitting in all that blood, wearing a spotless yellow dress, focused simply on tying her shoes.
A man screamed and Carole woke up.
A MAN’S SCREAM seemed worse than a woman’s. Carole had experienced it far more in black dreams than real life, but it set her heart hammering in her chest no matter where it came from. This time it came from her father, on the cot next to hers. Early morning light pinked the hut. She saw Joseph wrestling to wake from a dream, head thrashing from side to side, hair from his inverted Mohawk brushing against the cords of the rope mattress. Instinctively she knew he was dreaming the same dream she’d had, knew her father had once been a little boy called Nomno who the children begged to dream with. Knew Joseph shared himself, his heart, in his dreams. The shared dream hadn’t scared her, and she didn’t understand why it scared him.
“It’s alright,” she said, reaching to shake him gently. “Beth is fine. Ted takes care of our daughter when I’m gone.”
In one unnatural movement Joseph shot to his feet, reminding Carole just how startled Ted must feel when she did it.
“Get up!” he shouted at her. Instinctively she responded, mirroring his movement, the voices in her head instantly on alert. “Find shoes!” he commanded. Carole blinked in the dim morning light, searching the hut. Joseph leapt over her bed. “Scan! You can scan can’t you? Find shoes!”
“Scan?” she said, but her mind already made the connection. Ignoring his bid for footwear, she searched for any sign of danger. She sensed nothing to be afraid of in the peaceful village, but her father’s anxiety made her tense, ready to run.
“Can you see with your mind? You don’t need eyes to find shoes do you?”
Carole had often considered the talent as radar. She moved her mind nearer and sensed several pair of sandals outside the hut under a bench. “They’re outside the door. Can’t you do it? Scan?” she said, unable to stop herself from questioning even as her mind again scanned through the village, searching for trouble.
“No. It’s a warrior gifting, a shieldmaiden gifting in your case.” He crisscrossed the hut, nabbing something from under a bed. “I think you might have noticed my gifting last night. How old is your daughter? Beth?”
“A year.” He didn’t respond, so Carole added, digging among some utensils on the sideboard for a weapon, “She has your
eyes.”
Joseph moved to her side, clutching a metal canteen. “I saw her in your dreams. She looks like you and Keight.” There were tears in his eyes. Carole noted they weren’t tears of joy.
“Why are you afraid?” Carole unscrewed the lid from his canteen as he held it out, and filled it with water from a pitcher. Spotting a dull butter knife in a tray full of spoons, she palmed it.
“Because there are others here like us, two Warriors of ilu!” he said. “I saw them yesterday. They’ll surely seek you out.” He pulled the canteen away before Carole finished filling it. Water spilled onto the desert floor beneath. Carole followed him as he hurried outside.
Together they bent beside a bench and rooted through piles of dusty sandals. Carole’s mind raced as her hands searched for a pair of shoes that would fit her. Memories from somewhere drifted into her mind. Somehow she knew what Warriors of ilu were. Every hair on her body now stood at attention. They were fighters like her, only they’d trained for it. For years. Fear prickled up her spine, though she saw no reason for it. They’re dangerous but we’ve done nothing wrong.
Her father nabbed a pair of sandals and tugged one onto a foot. “You’re remembering? It happens when our kind get together. It’s a type of ancestral memory. The more time we spend with our own kind, especially touching, the more you’ll remember. You have good reason to fear Warriors of ilu. It’s forbidden to take a mate outside of our kind. If they realize what you’ve done—what your Ted and Beth are—likely they’ll kill you, and them.”
Carole finally located a pair of mismatched sandals that would fit and sat her dull knife on the bench to strap them on. Joseph strapped his second shoe on. Carole tightened her shoes and reached for her knife. Her father’s hand shot out and stopped her.
“No. You can’t win a fight against them, and it would be wrong to kill them.”
“You said they’d kill me, Ted, Beth! I won’t let anyone hurt my family!” She brushed his hand away and her fingers clenched the knife tightly. Joseph shook his head.
“Did Rutak never tell you? Our people are so few, droplets in the ocean he used to tell me. Just go, and don’t ever try to come back here. Keep your family away from our kind.”
“I don’t even know any of our kind!”
“I’d assumed as much. You’re still alive.” Joseph gently removed the useless knife from her hand and put his fingers through hers. “You still don’t sense anyone coming?”
“The tribe is rousing. Nobody seems to be heading in this direction. I don’t sense Fastest or Sister Mary Josephine at all.”
“Keep scanning. Let’s go.”
THE VILLAGE AND desert were open and exposed, but the steeped huts, and the rise and fall of the land made moving through it unseen easy. Carole and Joseph stepped silently, tucking against adobe walls, and behind brush to keep from being noticed. Scanning helped, and Joseph knew every step and stone from his childhood home. After yesterday’s fast, the hungry tribe woke with breakfast in mind, washing quickly, and hurrying towards the main camp for a communal breakfast. Within minutes Carole and Joseph passed the large monolith boulder, and moved in the opposite direction from everyone else, safe from detection.
Carole sensed relief fill Joseph’s heart.
“What drew you to a man like Ted?” he gasped, jogging across open desert.
Hurrying through the empty desert at his side, Carole glanced towards him, her reply unstrained. Matching Joseph’s slower pace took no real effort. “It was the first heart I’d felt since yours. I needed him. I had to—I couldn’t bear the thought of being alone after that.”
A faint smile touched the side of his wide mouth. “I sometimes feel their hearts too. Is your Ted a good man?”
The question gave Carole pause, but she answered honestly, shaking her head. Joseph didn’t slow or look in her direction, intent on getting out of the veil. “No,” she said.
“You were drawn to the heart of a bad man?” His words were strained with exertion.
“I think—I think I’ve made him bad. He’s afraid of me.”
Joseph nodded sagely, as though that were perfectly understandable. “I’ll speak to ilu about him.”
“What are we, Jo—Father? Why are we different?” She stumbled over calling him father, and he squeezed her hand tightly.
“Everyone was once very much like us. They changed, we didn’t, but we’re all just people, Cahrul. What sets us apart is our choices.”
“If we’re all just people, why does it matter who I married?” Carole argued.
“I doubt it does to ilu, but your choice is forbidden to our kind. The exit is just ahead.” He panted, “We can talk later.”
“But I didn’t even know I had a kind!”
“Didn’t you?” Joseph argued. “And would it have mattered?”
Carole wondered if it would have.
In front of them a strange wind blew, signaling the edges of the veil. Carole remembered how to get out, to feel the hard bubbled invisible surface, and sniff for the whiff of garbage—signaling the entrance to the dirty world outside. The smell of garbage blew past Carole’s nose and she slowed, turning towards it. Joseph stopped moving altogether, skidding to a standstill. Before she could turn her head and ask why, Fastest came jogging through thin air, stopping not three yards away.
Beside her Joseph blew out a sigh of relief, before anyone could speak two impossibly fit men appeared right behind Fastest and slid to a stop. Carole knew who they were even before she sensed fear fill her father’s heart. Warriors of ilu.
WITHOUT HIS HAIR Fastest looked different, older, and stubble had begun to pepper his scalp, turning patches of sore-looking skin black. The warriors were dressed like Fastest, in jeans and running shoes. The tallest wore a black concert T-shirt. The fabric stretched so tightly over the man’s broad chest and eight-pack abs it made the name of the band indecipherable, telling Carole no matter how strong she was, she did not have the bulk and strength of that man. Speed. I can best him with speed, she reassured herself. The second warrior stood smaller but bare-chested, revealing an unimagined level of fitness. He’ll be fast too. Dark blonde hair rested on his broad tanned shoulders, but Carole’s eyes were drawn to the enormous sword strapped to his waist, resting against faded blue jeans. Surprise. I can best him with surprise.
Judging by the expressions on their faces, they hadn’t expected to see Carole and Joseph at the edge of the veil, but none of them looked hostile.
“Hey!” Fastest grinned at Carole and Joseph. “Sneaking off? Did you hear Bert & Ernie here were looking for you?” Carole’s father stiffened beside her, but Fastest’s black eyes glittered mischievously revealing no reason to be afraid.
“Yet,” the voices whispered.
The bare tanned fellow smiled widely, moving closer, routinely shoving the sword behind his leg. “Jonathan calls us that, but I’m not Bert, my name is Bakrahn and my brother is Estrellas.” The big guy—Estrellas—nodded at her, his grin so wide he appeared to be in pain of some sort.
“Why are you looking for me?” Carole managed, trying to ignore the waves of her father’s fear moving against her heart. They can’t know about Beth or Ted, she reassured herself, eyeing the hilt of Bakhran’s sword. He kept his right hand positioned as though to grab it at any second, but he seemed relaxed and wore the same idiotic smile as his brother.
“Why else?” Fastest intoned. The stupid smile seemed to be contagious among the three of them. “They wanted to meet you because they’ve never seen a girl before.”
“He means like us,” Bakrahn explained. “We’ve never seen a female Covenant Keeper before.”
“They all wear their hair like that I hear,” Fastest said, pointing at Carole’s shorn hair with the two bald paths striped through it. Neither man seemed to mind it. They kept right on grinning at her. The voices were having a fit, and her father’s hand clenched hers so tightly it hurt.
“Tell her, Bert,” said Fastest to Bakhran, “Tell her wha
t you want.” Carole shot him a dirty look, but Fastest only seemed further amused by it.
“I want—we both want—to give you our declaration.” The half-naked warrior, Bakrahn, launched into what sounded like a sales pitch. “Choose as your heart leads. We have a small clan in the Sierra Nevada. There are twenty-eight of us. You’ll be our first woman! If you want you can meet everyone else and then choose a husband, but Estrellas and I are the best fighters, and the youngest.”
Carole went still, every muscle in her body as tense as her father beside her. Fastest burst out laughing, a wheezing series of hee-hee-hee practically choking him. For a moment Carole hoped that the whole thing had been a joke, but the two warriors turned confused looks on Fastest. He bent forward bracing his hands on his knees, gasping for breath.
“Are we missing something?” broad-chested Estrellas asked. Despite Fastest’s teasing, the sharp-eyed, big warrior didn’t look like he’d miss much.
Fastest managed to stand, and dug in his pocket. Trying to talk around his laughter, he sounded like he was having an asthma attack. “F-finesse for starters, guys, but also instinct. C-Cahrul’s already got a guy. I’m not one of your kind but even I can spot a girl who’s already in love, and—” He stopped chuckling and fished something out of his pocket, turning his attention on Carole. “Obviously very married. I can’t believe you were ducking out of here without this rock. I didn’t think your kind did wedding rings. I had to pry this swag out of Karl’s clenched fist!” Fastest flicked a ring into the air. The familiar platinum and diamond ring from Ted’s wealthy past seemed to move in slow motion as it spun towards her, sparkling in the sunshine. Joseph released her hand and nabbed it out of the air.
Heartless A Shieldmaiden's Voice: A Covenant Keeper Novel Page 20