"I'm sorry. I didn't know Ka-shal Tiroth was going to take such an interest. I fear Mama's going to be dreadfully angry."
Cree turned to Benjamin. "And you! You know more about Ka-shal Tiroth than I. What happens if they don't catch me?"
"Then they'll go to the Grand Council and demand your extradition. If they don't get that, they'll start a war."
Dark anger uncurled in the pit of Cree's stomach, and with the anger came the whisper of his long unused power. Mental hands reached towards the pulsing energy he could sense just out of reach. He had only to touch it and...he stopped himself and willed the whisper of temptation to silence. Nerveless fingers reached for the cinch of Windchaser's saddle and pulled it tight. He swung into the saddle and nudged the horse onto the road. "Let's go."
Cree's eyes slid back to the east, and he thought of Reorden trapped in his own house, hating the son he had just welcomed home. Rage gnawed at his belly, and with the rage came the magic with its promise of revenge. He pushed both from his mind and voiced a silent prayer before turning back to his companions.
Mirayla joined Cree on the road. "There's a road, well more a path actually, that cuts off from this one a mile or so ahead. That's where we're going." Mirayla started down the road, and Benjamin fell in beside her.
Cree held Windchaser in check a moment and turned cold, angry eyes towards Lishal Tor. "I'm coming back, Father," he vowed in a whisper. Determination replaced his rage, and when the magic whispered to him this time, he listened. The power, long forgotten and unused, stirred within him, and he savored the feeling. A grim smile painted its way across his face. It's my fault all this happened, and I'll fix it somehow. I promise.
~*~
Dense bushes and enormous trees surrounded the path making it only wide enough for a single column of riders. The ground, once beaten smooth by passing travelers, had grown over with a fine bed of browning grass. Birds sang distantly, their voices muffled by the trees. The wind died to a mere whisper. Bits of sunlight drifted through gaps in the canopy of interlaced tree limbs. Cree gazed upward into the towering trees and suppressed a shiver. The muted sound combined with the faint light made him think of wandering spirits. "This forest isn't going to last the whole way, is it?"
"Almost the whole way. No one uses this way anymore," Mirayla said. "There's rumors it's haunted."
"I can see why."
"Are you frightened, Mac Torol? I rather like this place. It's peaceful." Benjamin turned in his saddle to flash him a smug smile.
"No, Benjamin, I'm not frightened. I don't like it here, and I don't find it peaceful at all." He stared at the tips of Windchaser's ears and said nothing more. Out of the corner of his eye, he thought he saw shadows moving under the trees. He watched for a moment, stared directly into the darkness, but saw nothing. Windchaser snorted and danced sideways, drawing Cree back to reality. He patted the horse's neck, reined him in, and turned his attention back to the shadows.
"If it's still standing, there's a cabin we can stop at for the night," Mirayla said.
"Cabin?" Cree asked. "I think I've had enough of cabins." A faint motion caught his eye. He pulled Windchaser to a stop and waited. A rabbit darted from the undergrowth in front of him. He laughed and nudged the horse back to a walk.
"I don't think there will be any nasty surprises on this road, Cree. Besides, it may have collapsed."
"He's afraid we might be able to sleep with a warm fire." Benjamin laughed. "I can't remember the last time I was warm. At least, he has that horse to keep him warm."
Cree grinned and scratched Windchaser's ears. "If you asked your horse nicely, he'd probably keep you warm, too."
"I can think of other things to keep me warm." Benjamin fell back until he was close enough to whisper. "And I'm sure you can, too."
"Don't start, Blacksmith." Cree growled and shook his head. "Are you ever going to give up this ridiculous idea?"
Benjamin chuckled. "No."
They rode on in silence. The forest gave way to a clearing, presided over by a small, stone cabin. The windows had once been glass, but were now either cracked or broken. The roof was missing some of the wooden shingles, but even that seemed pretty much intact. A porch had been built onto the front, but it sagged where the floor joists had rotted. The scattered remains of a chair littered the porch. The door stood partially open.
"What is this?" Cree asked. "I thought you said it might have collapsed."
"It's a cabin. An old blind man used to live here, but he died years ago, and the house has sat empty all this time. I wasn't sure it would be here."
"Looks to me like it was built to stand the ages," Benjamin said.
Mirayla grinned and stepped onto the rickety porch. "Are you coming?" She pushed open the door and went inside.
Unable to restrain his curiosity, Cree followed her. The rotted boards creaked under his weight, threatening to snap any moment. He peered into the gloom of the single room. Dust, speckled with the tracks of mice and other small animals, caked the floor. The furniture, most of it broken, was strewn across the room. A faint tinge of animal waste perfumed the air.
Mirayla's feet kicked up little clouds of dust, and she sneezed. "Not the cleanest place I've slept," Mirayla said. "But the fireplace still works, and we might even be able to coax a few fish out of the little stream out back."
"Fish?" He had not thought about water or the possibility of fresh food. "Stream?"
"There's a little stream behind the house. The fishing used to be good."
"Did you come here often?"
"When I was little. Mama used to bring me here to play. The man who lived here was an old friend."
The floor creaked, and Cree whirled to see Benjamin standing in the doorway. "I took the horses down to the water. I hope you don't mind."
Cree shrugged. "I'll brush them down in a bit. I was too tired last night."
The blacksmith grinned. "You going to confess your secret."
"What secret?"
"How you knew about the Reapers? If we had stayed in that barn, we would all be sitting in a cell right now."
Cree's brow knitted, and he tried to remember the dream that had awakened him the night before. "I don't know. Luck, I suppose."
Benjamin snorted. "Luck? Not likely, you said something about a dream."
"But I don't remember it, Benjamin." He shouldered past the blacksmith.
"Where are you going?"
"To brush down the horses. And I might do a little fishing."
"Fishing? You?" Benjamin burst into laughter.
"I do know how." He raised an eyebrow, and his lip curled into a lopsided grin. "I even have hooks and some line in my pack, and fish sounds a thousand times better than whatever dried stuff lurks in your pack."
Benjamin laughed harder. "I have to see this." Tears came to his eyes.
"Come along then." He turned to Mirayla. "Do you want to watch too? I can assure you Benjamin is going to be completely shocked."
Mirayla took a deep breath and tried to stop laughing. "I think I'll see what I can do about cleaning this place up a little. We're sleeping on the floor, but I don't think any of us want to eat dirt."
Cree took Benjamin's arm and steered him towards the door. "Come on, Blacksmith, I'll show you how to catch fish."
"You'll probably fall face first in the water."
"Don't count on it."
~*~
Cold, clear water bubbled over a bed of rocks. The stream was not deep, but the water was fast. The many rocks and tree limbs in the water hinted at good fishing. Cree rummaged in his pack for a length of line and a few hooks. He smiled at Benjamin. "Have you got any more of that bacon in your pack?"
"Just what are you going to do with the bacon?"
Cree tied the line to one of the hooks and chuckled. "Bait."
Benjamin looked from the stream to Cree. "You're crazy," he said, but he handed Cree the last of the bacon.
Cree shook his head, pulled a knife from his belt
, then sliced off a corner of the meat. "You'll see." He tossed the line into the stream and tied it to an overhand limb. "We'll have fish tonight."
Benjamin stared at the floating line. "Fish tales, maybe." He saw Cree threading another hook. "You don't trust yourself with just one line? You need more?"
"I don't want to be here all night, trying to catch enough for all of us." He looked over at the line in the water. "The water's cold. The fish will be slow."
Benjamin rolled his eyes and unfastened the saddle on his gelding. "I still say you're crazy."
Cree tossed the second line into the water. "We'll see." He eyed Benjamin's bulging packs. "What have you got in those, anyway? Not food, surely."
The blacksmith scowled. "None of your business, Mac Torol."
Cree raised an eyebrow and felt for a curry brush. "More secrets?"
"I don't have secrets, Mac Torol. Besides you didn't seem so keen yesterday to listen to reason."
Cree sighed. "I'm sorry. I was tired of riding, angry. I didn't mean what I said." He pulled the saddle from Windchaser's back and started brushing.
Benjamin sat very still, avoiding Cree's eyes. "You were right, you know."
Cree paused in mid-stroke. His hands started to shake. "About what?"
"I was a Reaper once."
The brush fell from Cree's hand. "You were, but that means--" Cree took a few steps backward.
"Oh, don't get excited, Mac Torol. That was years ago, and I left them when I saw--" He shook his head. "I'm not turning you in. I'm not going to report back to Ka-shal Tiroth."
Cree stood still and took deep breaths. "I trusted you." He could not decide if he was hurt or angry.
Benjamin took a step forward, and scowled when Cree backed away. "You can still trust me." He studied Cree's face. "And I think you know that. You said you'd seen things, what else did you see? Did you see me hunting down people like dogs, or slaughtering innocents?"
Cree dropped his walls and let the blacksmith's emotions leak through. He felt only sincerity, and a bit of pain. "You haven't?"
"No, Cree. I couldn't." Benjamin held out his hand. "Friends?"
Cree stared at the offered hand and moved towards the blacksmith. He clasped the hand and tensed as emotions, and their accompanying visions, rolled over him. Benjamin at his forge gave way to a younger Benjamin hunting with an older man. At a brief flash of the blacksmith in armor with a sword, Cree slammed the wall back up, unable to stomach anymore. "Friends."
Benjamin smiled. "Good." He peeked at the stream bank. "Because I think you need to check on your fish."
Glad to feel the tension lifted, Cree walked to his fishing lines. He grinned. "I think you're right." He pulled the line up, and showed Benjamin his catch - a fat trout. "Can you get that one?" He pointed to the other line. "I'll put this one back out." Cree took the fish from the hook and tossed it away from the bank. He sliced off another bit of bacon. Something splashed behind him, and he turned to see Benjamin standing knee-deep in the water. Cree laughed.
"How'd you make this look so easy?" The blacksmith trudged from the water.
Cree held out a hand to help the blacksmith out of the water. "Practice."
Benjamin cast an uneasy glance at the water. "I'll leave this to you. You seem to know what you're doing."
"You finally believe me?" Cree hauled the second fish out of the water. "I'm not as helpless as you think."
"I'm starting to believe you." Benjamin took the fish from Cree's hands. "Here, I'll clean them."
~*~
The inside of the cabin was cleaner; Mirayla had somehow swept the dirt off the floor and moved the debris out of the way. A fire blazed in the fireplace, lighting the single room with a soft glow.
"I hope you brought something to eat," she said. "I'm starved."
Cree held out the fish. "They just have to cook."
Mirayla stared at them. "Did Benjamin show you how to catch these?" Her eyes twinkled with amusement.
Cree chuckled. "He tried, but he ended up taking a bath instead."
Mirayla raised an eyebrow. "Oh, really? Didn't you enjoy fishing?"
"No." The blacksmith pulled off his wet boots.
Cree raised an eyebrow. "Next time you'll think before you make statements about my abilities, won't you?"
Benjamin wriggled his toes. "Maybe." He sighed. "Depends on what you tell me you can do."
Mirayla laughed and plopped down two fat potatoes and some carrots. "If one of you will go down and get some water, I might be able to conjure a stew."
Cree stared at the vegetables as though he had never seen anything like them. "Where did those come from?"
She chuckled. "The old man had a garden. I took a chance some of the plants might have gone wild and still be producing. These are a little pithy, but boiled down they'll taste better than anything Benjamin's got."
"Grass would taste better than what he's got in his pack. I'll go fetch the water."
~*~
With the warm stew settled in their stomachs, they bedded down next to the fire. Cree lay as far from the bright flames as he could, yet still be able to savor the heat. He stared into the fire, fascinated by the dancing flames. Closing his eyes, he let Benjamin's soft snores lull him into half-awareness, and finally sleep, and with sleep, came dreams. In an effort to ward away the nightmares, he tossed and turned, trying to stop the dreams before they consumed him. His attempts were futile, and the dreams came.
Flames embraced his body. Beyond the roar of the fire, he could hear frightened howls of villagers as they tried to escape. The acrid smell of burnt flesh tickled his nostrils as flames burned through his clothing. He screamed when his body erupted in agony. In some rational corner of his mind, he knew the end would come soon; he could see a light shining in the darkness now. He willed the fire hotter, willed it to burn faster. He wanted death, but before the flames could complete their task, the fire was gone, leaving behind only agony.
He woke, sodden with sweat and freezing. He shivered and wrapped his damp covers close about him. He stared at the ceiling, gasping as the clutches of his nightmare released him. He wanted to retch; instead, he swallowed the lump in his throat and exhaled. Tremors shook his body as he remembered the smell of the fire, the pain, and the screams. He laid his head on his knees and rocked back and forth like a little child frightened of a storm. A soft hand touched his shoulder, and he froze, his disgust giving way to fear.
"You were only dreaming," Mirayla said.
Another tremor wracked his body. He turned his head just enough that he could see Mirayla kneeling beside him, concern coloring her blue eyes. "I dream often. It'll pass."
She cocked her head to the side. "Will it? Or does the pain ever really leave you?"
He laid his forehead against his knees and wished she would leave him with his pain and nightmares. "No, the pain never leaves," he whispered. He shivered. "I've just learned to live with it. It's part of me."
"It doesn't have to be." She laid her fingers under his chin and turned his face towards her. "You could share the pain, then it would be part of me as well."
"Why would you do that?" Her eyes captured his, and he was drawn deep into their depths. Emotions warred in the dusky blue, and Cree caught a fleeting taste of her feelings for him. Confusion stopped the tremors wracking his body. He searched her eyes and almost opened his mind to her, because for a moment, he thought he had felt love.
"I'm a healer, Cree. Relieving pain is what I do, and you have a lot of pain. Won't you share it and lighten the burden you carry?" She opened her arms wide.
All the pain, frustration, and anger he had buried returned in a flood. His eyes filled with tears. He wanted to run, to hide from the pain, to bury his feelings a little deeper. Instead, he slid a little closer to Mirayla, and reached a tentative hand towards her as a single tear slid down his cheek.
With a faint smile, she grasped his hand, and he was filled with light and warmth that burned away the darkness and ate at
his barriers. The pain had lessened to a dull ache, anger faded into the darkness still lurking where the light could not reach. Another tear joined the first.
"Let it go, Cree," Mirayla said, moving closer to him. "Let yourself feel again. You've gone so long without caring, without trusting, you've forgotten how. It's time to learn again."
He shook like a cornered wolf, uncertain whether to trust Mirayla or wrench his hand away and flee. His gaze wandered from their clasped hands to her face. His senses, now raw from the dreams, felt sincerity and hope. And this time he was not mistaken, he did feel love. Before he could stop himself, he closed the gap between them and laid his head against her shoulder, at last yielding to her greater strength. Her arms enfolded him. He closed his eyes, savoring the warmth of her body. For the first time in eight years, he wept without remorse, without pain. Mirayla's hand stroked his hair, soothed away his fear, and broke down his walls a little further. He was safe. The pain had dulled, and he was not alone.
Return to Contents
* * *
Chapter Twelve
Pale beams of sunlight drifted through broken windows and onto Cree's face. He groaned and turned away from the light, not wanting to greet the day. He started to drift back to sleep, but a persistent rattling stopped him. His eyes popped open. The sound came again, and with agonizing slowness, he sat up. He turned in the direction of the noise and cried out at the sight of the possum perched on the edge of the pan containing the last of the stew.
"That was going to be our breakfast." The animal paused in its feasting and watched him as though it understood every word. "Go on, finish it. There's not enough left to even think of breakfast." The possum went back to consuming the leftovers. He watched it a moment before standing and walking to the door. The air was cold, but the wind was still, and the sun had begun to rise. He took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and sent a silent prayer to the heavens, wondering as he did so why he had bothered. The gods had always been distant tormentors, rather than protectors. He took careful stock of himself and realized the ever-present burden of guilt and pain lessened. His heart felt light, and this morning the world presented endless possibilities. He laid his hands against his cheeks, then his chest, and laughed.
EMBRACE OF MEMORY Page 9