“What are you doing?”
The man’s voice made her twist and nearly fall. He stood amidst green ferns with both babes in his arms. They were cooing happily, and the dagger hung from his belt. His expression was wary.
She hid her face and sniffed away the moisture.
“Did you hear me?” he said.
“Give me my child back.” She was surprised to hear so much bitterness in her voice.
He paused a moment. “They were fussing. I walked the forest to keep them calm and let you sleep. I found berries, wild carrots, and asparagus.” He pulled out a sack, untied it, and dumped its contents at her feet.
She motioned toward the baby, not taking her eyes from the food, or her mind from the ache in her stomach. “Give me my baby. Now.”
He seemed to gauge her, then stepped forward and offered Jade. Elina cradled Jade while inspecting the berries and tasting a few. After days of bland food, they were painfully flavorful. The skin burst between her teeth, sending sour shocks across her tongue while the sweetness warmed her chest. She closed her eyes and ate several more, savoring the lingering buzz in her mouth.
The man paced, gently swaying Noah. He seemed offended by her harshness. But what had he expected, taking Jade from her like that?
He said, “Do you remember the destroyed village where I found you?”
“Where I found you,” she corrected, and popped another berry in her mouth.
“Were you there when . . . ?”
“When what?”
“When it was attacked?”
“Of course not,” she lied.
“Oh . . .”
An awkward pause ensued, but she avoided his gaze and kept eating. She tried the asparagus, which was woody and slightly bitter.
“We were lucky,” he said.
She glanced up, went back to chewing.
“We won’t always find so much food in the wilds,” he said. “We can’t expect to continue this way.”
“Of course we can.”
“We need supplies,” he said. “Even water might become scarce if we continue. We should find a village and gather supplies first. We could use wineskins, a length of rope, a tarred leather cloak large enough to cover us in storms—”
“What’s your name?” she said.
“What?”
“Your name. You never told me.”
“Oh. Lamech.”
“Lamech.” She smiled. “You are a burden. Not my leader. I choose where I want to go. You may visit any village you’d like, but I will not stop to wait for you. You may go off to search the woods for food, but you will not take Jade from me. And you will give back what you stole.”
His face tightened and his eyebrows crouched. “I stole nothing.”
Elina’s voice rose. “The dagger. It belongs to my family. I want it back. If you refuse, Noah will go hungry.”
“You really think you could fight someone off with a ruined ankle and an infant?” He shook his head and returned to pacing to keep Noah satisfied. “Besides, if you don’t feed Noah, I could just leave you as I found you.” He motioned to the wood tool he crafted her.
She took a deep breath, another handful of berries, and tried to ignore him.
“There’s a village close-by,” he said. “I stumbled upon it yesterday.”
“What’s your point?” she said.
“Look—” He knelt, and she couldn’t help glancing at her dagger in his belt. “You need help. Rest. You can’t continue wounded as you are. You have no food left.”
“How do you—”
“I checked your bag while you slept last night,” he said.
“A thief and a spy. Perhaps I’ve misjudged you.”
“You seem to be enjoying the food I brought.” He picked up a dirt-encrusted wild carrot and tossed it toward her.
She tossed it back. “I could return what I’ve eaten.” She stuck two fingers into the back of her mouth.
He laughed. “When I first saw you, I couldn’t understand why you were alone.” He paused. “Now I think I do.”
“Mock all you wish,” she said. “But stay out here long enough and you’ll be the same.”
“Why? What have you seen?”
She turned away.
“Why haven’t you asked me of my past?” he said.
“Because I don’t care,” she said.
“I’m trying to help you.”
“What if I don’t want your help?” She was yelling now, and Jade fussed in response.
“You do.”
She stared at him, wanting nothing more than to slap that smug, innocent expression off his face.
But he was right, and she hated him for it.
“I know the struggle this has caused you,” he continued.
“You don’t know anything.”
“Maybe not. But I want to know. Not to disrespect you, of course—”
“You’ve already done that.”
“Never my intention,” he said.
“Then what was?”
“All my life, I thought I was comfortable with loneliness. But now . . .” He shook his head. “I keep dreaming of it. Of my wife’s last moment. Over and over. It’s terrible enough to be forced to relive the moment. Even worse to wake and find the nightmare holds true. I can’t bear it any longer.”
“I can’t help you,” she said.
He looked away, cheeks reddening. “I know.”
“And you can’t help me.”
He shook his head.
She played with Jade’s wisp-thin hair, black against brown. Noah was beginning to fuss as well, so she motioned for Lamech to give him to her. He obeyed, and returned to pacing as she fed him.
“Tomorrow, we should go to the village,” he said. “I won’t leave Noah, and despite my threats, I couldn’t bring myself to leave you.”
“It’s not safe.”
“Of course not,” he said. “But neither is being out here. What would have happened to you yesterday if I hadn’t—”
“Don’t,” she said, her voice harsh again.
He nodded. “We will have to lodge together.”
“Never.”
“In private, I will stay away from you, but they must think we are married so they will not try to use you.” He flipped the dagger out of his tunic and offered it to her again. “If I don’t honor you in every way, I won’t stop you from retaliating.”
She looked into his eyes, and though the unnamable terror remained at the edges of her awareness, suppressed just enough to keep hysteria at bay, the man’s total and utter sincerity stabbed through it, more unnerving than anything else.
He offered her safety, but could it really be as he proposed? What motives lurked beneath the surface of his expression? He knew more than he let on, and manipulated people easier than most while feigning ignorance in a way that made her struggle to question his sincerity.
Of course, he was right. They could not stay out in the wilds without replenishing supplies. And she was injured.
But what would it cost her? What if she could not keep the madness suppressed? What would happen if they were confined to a small room when it struck? Too close for him to get away? To ensure Jade’s safety?
He was still looking at her. Patient, immovable, and innocent as a boulder.
“I’ll decide tomorrow,” she said, and hid the dagger in the folds of her clothing.
Lamech nodded and left, he said, to gather materials to make a fire and roast their vegetables.
Chapter 26
The night was a symphony of crackling flames and howling wolves. Two straight days of wakefulness had drained Lamech dry, and though every moment was a fight to clear his thoughts, he could not sleep for the wolves.
Beyond the wolves lurked the dreams. As long as he remained steadfast, the stars shone in their proper place above, predictable clusters of white around a moon sickle sharp.
Despite the heat of the flames, bursts of wind pierced his tunic like spears, and he could
just begin to see his breath in the air. It was enough to shock him awake.
Elina had found little enough sleep waking through the night to feed and care for Noah and Jade. And though she would not look at him, he no longer seemed the target of her bitterness.
Despite Elina’s periodic madness and paranoia, they had been forced together by forces beyond them. He couldn’t help thinking of Father’s words under the stunted tree in the mountains.
After their discussion earlier, she had eaten the roasted vegetables in comparative silence before retiring with Jade.
Lamech stretched his back and wondered how night had the power to darken the mind and strengthen desire. When the sun hung high, its light beat back the memories. But at night, with nothing to focus on but the movement of flames, the images of Adah’s last moments came back with near as much force as any nightmare.
He stood and began walking a circle around the fire. For what gain had the men attacked his home and destroyed his family? Could it be as the voice implied, and Adah feared?
Had her enemy finally found her?
He shook his head and released clenched fingers. Elina woke, sat up, and stared at him. He wiped cold sweat from his forehead, watched it glisten on his fingers, and continued walking, searching the shadows for movement.
Elina did not speak, but he knew what she was thinking. They needed the safety of a village more than either felt comfortable admitting.
The problem was that he didn’t trust her. And she didn’t trust him.
Regardless, they needed each other.
Elina said, “You will call me your sister when we go to the village.”
Lamech rubbed his itching eyes. “It won’t help.”
“I don’t care. It’s what you’ll say. Fight me and I may yet change my mind.”
“I won’t,” he said, because he knew it wouldn’t help. Sometimes, she reminded him very much of Adah. But he refused to think of her any longer.
“I’m thirsty,” she said.
“There are a few berries left.”
“No water?”
“None,” he said.
“Then let me eat a bit and we can move before the sun rises.”
Lamech nodded and offered to take both Noah and Jade so she could prepare herself for travel. To his surprise, she handed Jade to him with relief, and finished the berries before preparing the body wrap she carried Jade in.
Lamech passed Jade back to her, helped her adjust the wrap, offered her the walking stick, and helped her stand.
He led the way with Noah in his arms. It took several hours at Elina’s hobbling pace, but the walking stick worked surprisingly well.
Finally, they found the village, a small cluster of well-hidden buildings. No large roads led through it, but smoke rose from small chimneys, and women sat with children offering curious glances.
A few buildings had been built into the thick branches of gophar trees, and ladders hung low leading up into them. There was a blacksmith, an herbalist, foresters, carpenters, hunters, tanners, and potters bustling about from shop to shop and home to home. Toward the center, an inn of pitched wood and tarred thatch sat beside a small but busy marketplace with men and women yelling pricing for vegetables and wares.
“They’ve not found this place,” she said.
“You mean . . . ?”
A nod. “The devils from beyond the mountains. They’ve laid waste to more communities than you could imagine.”
“Why do they attack?” he said.
“I don’t know if anyone knows. They’re not like normal men. They drink blood like wine.”
Lamech thought of the way the one had begged for mercy after dragging his tongue across Adah’s cheek. He dug his nails into his palm. “You’ve seen them do this?”
Elina ignored him and motioned toward a woman standing in front of a pottery house. The woman’s hands were caked with clay and stained with dye. She nodded a curt greeting.
“Excuse me,” Elina said, and smiled. “Do you know of a place my brother and I could stay? We’re journeying south and I hurt my ankle. We’re in no rush, and can work for our keep.”
The woman’s eyes narrowed slightly after glancing at Noah and Jade. “We don’t need any more refugees.”
Lamech stepped forward. “I lived many years in the mountains. I have some skill as an herbalist and gatherer. I know the uses of plants many have not seen, and how to cultivate and cross them. Perhaps I could speak with the herbalist?”
The woman turned and sat at a potter’s wheel, wetting her hands and coaxing a spinning hunk of clay. “We don’t want your kind. Leave.”
Elina approached, her voice quiet. “You deny shelter to infants?”
The woman ignored her, brought the clay walls up, then out.
Lamech grabbed Elina’s arm, and she spun around, hand flashing toward the dagger until she noticed the look in his eyes. He let go. “Come,” he whispered. “She doesn’t want us, but others might.”
They left the potter at her wheel and continued through the village. Lamech thought to go to the herbalist, for that was where his skill lay. Elina brought them instead to a hunters’ lodge.
Skinned animals hung from hooks, and hides from racks. A young boy mopped blood, and two men stood over a table counting silver pieces and scratching marks on a stone.
Elina stepped toward the two men, who glanced at her, curious.
She withdrew her dagger, stabbed it into the table so that its ornate hilt stood upright, then removed a carbuncle ring from her right hand and dropped it on the table beside the dagger. The taller man inspected both and frowned.
“My brother and I need lodging,” Elina said, her voice calm and direct. “The woman, a potter”—she pointed and the men looked, glanced at each other, back toward Elina—“denied us and our infants.”
“Elina,” Lamech said, but she held her hand up to silence him.
“Where can we stay?”
The hunters stared for a moment, and the boy stopped mopping. The taller man swept the silver coins into his hand and deposited them in a satchel at his waist. He motioned toward the boy, who bowed and escaped into a back room before the man leaned forward and spoke in a hesitant voice. “The inn is perfectly suitable for anyone. Just because a woman says you’re not welcome doesn’t mean anything. She’s a simple woman, and she fears the Others. The devils with horns.”
“How much does it cost to stay at the inn?” Elina said.
The taller man paled a bit. When he didn’t answer, the other said, “Three bronze coins per day.”
The taller man stuck his hand into his satchel and retrieved two silver coins. Elina stretched out her hand, and the man dropped the coins and returned to his work.
Elina said, “Thank you,” retrieved her dagger, and replaced the ring on her right index finger. She turned and hobbled away, Lamech following.
Lamech’s face tightened. “What did you just do?”
“No time for questions.” She continued hobbling toward the inn.
“You knew those men,” Lamech said, catching up with her.
“No. I didn’t. Now keep your mouth sealed so we can get to our room without problem.” She seemed nervous, so Lamech relented, and they entered the inn, which was warmed by a crackling hearth fire, and lit by many candles.
Men and women passed drinks and stories over low tables as Elina found the innkeeper, passed him a silver coin and said, “Three weeks for my brother and me.” The man nodded, glanced at the infants and their crumpled clothing, and gestured toward a room down the hall on the left.
After they entered their room and shut the door, Elina lay on the bed and said, “Tomorrow, we talk. Right now, we rest.” Lamech opened his mouth to protest, but Elina said, “Remember who holds the dagger.”
Lamech sighed, found a space on the floor, laid down, and despite his curiosity, closed his eyes and finally slept.
This time, he did not dream of the stars.
Chapter 27
&n
bsp; Elina woke to Lamech snoring. When at last he opened his eyes, it was nearly midday. She could see the slow machinations as he worked through yesterday’s memories. He sat up and crossed his legs, expectant.
“I thought of not telling you,” Elina said. “But after what you did . . . thank you.”
He nodded.
She could not admit she needed him, however true. But if they stayed together long enough, he should know. It would be better that she told him and they parted ways now than in the wilds. Besides, there were others in a town such as this that she could enlist as companions.
So why stay?
Because this one is special.
Special?
I hate and fear him as other men, but there is something else.
You’re lonely. Desperate. Eager.
I don’t desire sex.
Then what?
“Elina?” he said.
“Yes,” she said. “Just gathering my thoughts.” She removed her carbuncle ring and handed it to him. “Notice the matching serpents. They are family heirlooms. The ring and dagger of my house.”
“What do they mean?”
“That I am my father’s daughter,” she said.
He glanced at the ring. “What did your family do?”
She watched the rays of light enter the window and bleed across the floor. “They were hunters.”
Lamech’s eyebrows crouched. “In the hunters’ lodge, the man who gave you two silver pieces looked fearful.”
“As he should,” Elina said.
“You said you did not know him.”
“We did not hunt animals,” she said.
“Then what did you hunt?”
“Men.”
“Oh,” he said.
The simplicity of his statement drove a cold laugh from her. “Yes, come to my father with a sizable enough gift, and we would pursue the mark until the end.”
Lamech took this in, nodded, then brushed the dust from his tunic.
She stood and hobbled to the window to feel the warmth of the sun on her legs, but the light seemed sapped of substance. “Do you understand nothing? My family butchered people.”
“Not just your family,” Lamech said. “You mean yourself, don’t you?”
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