Tas didn’t budge. His breathing was shallow, but that was something at least. It had taken all the strength Girik had left to heft Tas over his uninjured shoulder and carry him to the shelter. Girik had almost passed out himself from the pain and exhaustion more than once during the short trek. He couldn’t carry Tas all the way back to the village, not without time to rest. He couldn’t leave Tas alone in the forest either, not with the Spawn still somewhere nearby. After all the monster had been through, the thing had still had the strength to get up and trot off after Girik and Bayor tackled it. Without the magic of a brother to help, Girik sure as hells wasn’t going to go after it again on his own.
If the village sent out a search party, Girik could only hope the smoke and fire would lead them to his old hunting shelter. It wasn’t that far from the ravine where the Hunt had set their trap, not as the crow flies at least. It was the best he could manage for now. Unfortunately night was falling fast, and the likelihood that a party would go out in search of them fell with it. They’d probably wait until morning to try, if they tried at all, which meant Girik was on his own.
Gods, his shoulder hurt.
Bayor let out a small whine from the entrance to the shelter, and Girik lifted his head to scan the woods beyond the opening. He strained his eyes and ears but sensed nothing except the usual night sounds in the woods.
“It’s all right, boy. We’re all right.” He said the words to comfort himself as much as his hound as he let his head fall back to the straw.
Bayor had been a treasure that day, as always. He’d followed Girik round and round in circles as he’d tried unsuccessfully to keep up with the hunting party on foot. Then he’d sprinted back with Girik when they’d heard the horn sounding. And he’d charged directly at a horror on four hooves, without hesitation, when Girik finally figured out Tas wasn’t going to do anything to stop the Spawn from trampling him.
“I’m going to find you the biggest, best hunk of meat I can when we get back to the village. I promise… after you’ve had a bath.”
Girik had at least been able to strip out of his clothes. Wherever they’d touched the Spawn, they reeked of things Girik didn’t even want to imagine. Unfortunately, Bayor couldn’t simply step out of his fur. Girik had built the shelter near a stream on purpose, and they had rinsed off, but icy water alone was not enough to rid them of that foulness.
He must have finally passed out from pain and exhaustion, because the world was dark the next time he opened his eyes. A quick glance down near his feet told him the fire had burned down to a few faintly glowing embers, and there was barely enough moonlight filtering through the trees to make Bayor a slightly darker mound guarding the opening to the shelter.
Girik shifted to get up and tend the fire, but a lance of pain from his shoulder and side made him swear under his breath and lie back down.
“Girik?”
“Tas? You’re awake! Thank the gods.”
“Where are we? What happened?”
“We’re in the dubious protection of my old hunting shelter. But as for what happened, I can only tell the part after you fainted. You’re going to have to fill me in on everything before that. Are you hurt? I tried to check, but I couldn’t find any obvious injuries.”
Tas shifted next to him. “I’m a little sore, but other than a few bruises, I don’t think I’m injured… just tired.”
“You had me worried when you wouldn’t wake up.”
“I’m sorry.”
Girik gritted his teeth against the pain, sat up, and scooted back over to the fire. He fumbled in the dark until he found a few dry pine branches that still had their needles, and he used them to bring the fire back to life. The small pile of sticks he’d collected was almost gone, meaning he’d have to go back out and forage soon, but he needed to do something about his arm first.
“You’re naked again,” Tas said as he slowly sat up and moved closer to the fire.
His lips curled into a weak smile, and Girik returned it. “It’s my preferred state.”
Tas rolled his eyes and Girik chuckled, but laughing was a mistake. He couldn’t keep the grimace of pain from his face, and Tas immediately sobered and moved closer. “You’re hurt.”
“My shoulder,” Girik agreed reluctantly.
“Broken?” Tas asked as he reached for it.
Girik shook his head as he gritted his teeth and allowed Tas to poke gently at it. “I think it just popped out of its socket when I hit the beast.”
Tas’s eyes went very round. “I thought maybe I’d imagined it, but you really tackled a Spawn. Are you insane? You’re lucky you’re not dead!”
With a grimace, Girik held up his good hand. “Can we save the lecture until after we do something about my arm, because I have a few choice words I’d like to give you right back, but I’m in too much pain right now to do it.”
Tas huffed, but he didn’t continue his rebuke. Instead he scooted back and slowly clambered to his feet. “Stand up,” Tas ordered. “It will be easier to fix if we’re not on the ground.”
When Tas swayed a bit, Girik lifted an eyebrow. “You’re sure about that?”
“Of course I am,” Tas snapped, lifting his chin.
Despite the situation and the considerable pain he was in, Girik hid a smile. He kind of liked it when Tas was feisty and irritable. At least it meant Tas still had some spirit left.
“And you’re sure you know what you’re doing?” Girik poked.
Tas’s eyes narrowed. “This is one instance in which my vocation comes in handy. If the Thirty-Six know anything, they know about pain. Dislocation of the joints is often an unfortunate byproduct of our work.”
Some of his good humor now lost, Girik grimaced and nodded. “That makes sense. If only you were still in the business of taking that pain. I’ve got a good bit to spare right now, and I have a feeling you could use the power.”
With a soft sigh, Tas moved in front of him and gently clasped the hand on Girik’s injured side. “I’m afraid it’s going to hurt a lot more before I’m done,” he murmured.
“Do it.”
Somehow sensing the tension, Bayor let out a small whine and came to Girik’s side. With his good hand, Girik patted him on the head. “It’s all right, boy. I’m all right.”
“He’s not going to bite me for hurting you, is he?”
“Probably not,” Girik teased.
Tas gave him a sour look before taking Girik’s injured arm by the elbow and wrist. “I’ll be as gentle as I can, but it’s swollen up quite a bit.”
“It’s useless as it is, so do what you have to.”
Despite every intention of remaining stoically silent, a few whimpers and groans escaped him as Tas bent and rotated his arm this way and that. Girik was on the verge of snapping at him to just yank the bloody thing back in place already, when Tas put gentle but firm tension on his arm and the bone finally popped back into place. Girik nearly passed out from the sudden intense pain. His vision swam for a couple of seconds before the agony eased and he could see again.
Tas worried his lip as he studied Girik’s face from a few inches away, and Girik couldn’t help himself, he dove in and gave Tas a quick peck on the lips before pulling back again.
“Thanks,” he said to a wide-eyed Tas.
He rotated his arm experimentally, grimacing a bit, but the pain was nowhere near what it had been.
Tas placed a couple of fingers to his lips before dropping them again and clearing his throat. “You’ll need to be careful with it. I wish I had some power left to sing the Hymn of Healing, but I don’t.”
Girik studied the man in the weak firelight as Tas looked anywhere but at him. They needed to talk, but it could wait a few more minutes.
“I don’t think anyone will come after us until daylight, so I’m pretty sure we’re stuck here for the night. We need firewood if you’re up to helping. There’s a creek too, if you’re thirsty, and I have a little bit of dried meat we can share.” Tas nodded and foll
owed him out of the shelter. Away from the firelight, the weak moonlight streaming through the clouds was barely enough to see by, once his eyes adjusted. “I haven’t been out here since my mama became too ill to be left alone overnight, which means we shouldn’t have to travel far to find enough wood to burn. Unfortunately it also means the straw for our bed is a bit old and damp, and I think it housed a family of mice at some point.”
Uncharacteristically quiet, Tas only grunted and fell silent again, so Girik did the same. After a couple of trips, Girik thought they probably had enough for a decent fire, at least until they fell asleep. He took Tas to the creek so they could drink their fill, and then they both dropped tiredly to the ground next to the fire. Girik pulled the strips of dried meat out of the small leather bag he’d packed that morning. He hadn’t anticipated needing to feed two adults and Bayor, so there wasn’t enough to sate any of them, but it helped. They all chewed in silence until Girik decided he was done being patient.
“What happened today?”
Tas licked his lips and stared into the fire. “I lied,” he finally answered. “I didn’t have enough energy to destroy a Spawn of that size. I thought I could, but I was wrong.”
“If that was true, why didn’t you stay with the rest of the Hunt when the thing ran off? I was there. I got there just before it broke the wall. You could have let it go and come after it again another time. I could have helped you with that, like I did before.”
“No.”
“What do you mean, no?”
Tas sighed and picked at the pile of sticks next to him. He grabbed a few twigs and threw them into the fire, still without meeting Girik’s gaze. “I couldn’t go back, not after failing to do my duty.”
“That wasn’t your fault. That idiot, Durn, threw the spear. He’s the one that made the thing charge.”
“Everything that happens on the Hunt is my fault. I’m the representative of the Thirty-Six and the Brotherhood.” Tas grimaced and finally lifted tortured eyes to Girik’s. “You have no idea how much scrutiny I’m under. They know something’s wrong. Brother Saldus is watching, judging my every move. It was bad enough that I ended the ceremony early. I couldn’t go back without destroying the Spawn as well. That villager broke the line because he lost faith in me. That was my fault too. The success of the Hunt depends on faith in the power and righteousness of the Brotherhood. I could see the Twelve were uneasy from the moment they assembled in the square. They had no faith in my abilities, because I didn’t do my job.”
“You’re too hard on yourself.”
“Am I? I failed. This is my duty, Girik. It’s my purpose in life, the mission bestowed on me by the gods, and I failed!”
Despite his exhaustion and complaining body, Girik couldn’t sit and listen to Tas tear himself apart. He scooted around the fire until he was pressed against Tas’s side. When Tas didn’t pull away, he draped his good arm across the man’s shoulders and squeezed. “Is that why you just stood there when the Spawn charged?”
Tas sighed and rested his head on Girik’s shoulder. “Yes. I had to finish it.”
“How does getting yourself killed finish it?” he asked, exasperated.
“I wouldn’t have survived the encounter, but neither would the Spawn. It isn’t spoken of beyond the Thirty-Six, but there is a way to give your own life force to the stones. I could have taken it with me. I could have embedded the stone in the Spawn, and it would have continued to drain me to finish the cleansing.”
“You were going to stab it with your necklace?”
Tas snorted, although Girik was way past finding the humor in the conversation. “It’s a little more complicated than that, but yes.”
“But why?” He wanted to see Tas’s face, but he hated to pull out of a cuddle as long as Tas was allowing it to happen.
“Why did you volunteer to be the Offering?” Tas threw back.
“That’s different. My mama is the only family I have, and I didn’t have any other options to guarantee she’d be taken care of. You’d never even met any of us until the day before yesterday.”
With a sigh, Tas pulled out of the embrace. “Do you mind if we lie down? I’m still very tired.”
Girik fed the fire and then followed Tas to the pile of straw. He gave Tas the side closest to the heat.
“That can’t be comfortable. Aren’t you cold?” Tas asked when Girik settled beside him, still naked.
Girik shrugged and then winced when his shoulder and bruised ribs complained. “A little. I kind of cuddled inside your robes earlier to help keep you warm, so it wasn’t so bad.”
Taking the hint, Tas gave him a small smile, pulled his arms out of the sleeves, and opened the double front of his now-soiled crimson robes. Girik sighed happily as he slid in close and gingerly wrapped an arm around Tas’s middle. Tas allowed the cloth to fall, cocooning the two of them in wool. The cut wasn’t generous enough to quite cover Girik’s shoulders and back, but it protected most of him from the mountain air. Bayor let out a grumbling yawn from his guard post by the opening before settling back down.
Only the sounds of their breathing and the crackle of the fire broke the silence for a while. Just when Girik thought he’d have to push to continue their conversation—before he fell asleep—Tas said, “When I was first chosen, I cried every night for weeks. I was so scared and lonely.”
“How old were you?”
“Seven.”
“So young?”
“Younger have been chosen, but not often. Like I said, it wasn’t an easy time for me. I understood everything my mother had said to me before they took me away, how honored and proud my family was that I was chosen, how I would be going to a better life than they could provide for me.”
“I saw you had no family mark beneath the flame of the Brotherhood,” Girik murmured sympathetically.
“We weren’t Unnamed, only poor. I had three older siblings, a younger sister, and Mother had another on the way. Father was saving for my Naming ceremony and the mark, but it wasn’t a priority. Despite our village being several times larger than Comun, everyone there knew what family we belonged to.”
A slight edge had entered Tas’s voice, and Girik hid a smile. He much preferred a proud and prickly Tas to a defeated one. He didn’t bother to ask why Tas had stayed with the Brotherhood if he was so unhappy. Everyone knew that no one ever left the Brotherhood alive. Once you were taken, you never came back.
Instead he said, “Obviously, something changed.”
“Yes,” Tas murmured into the closeness between them. “I had a dream. One night, after crying myself to sleep yet again, I dreamt Quanna, Moc, and Chytel came to me. At first, Moc scolded me for crying. I was terrified. But then they smiled at me. They reminded me that out of all the children in Rassa, they had chosen me. They had put their faith in me. They believed in me. I was chosen because they saw a potential.” Up until that moment Tas had seemed to be talking mostly to himself, but Girik could just make out the glint of his eyes in the shadows cast by the firelight as he lifted them to meet Girik’s. “Do you understand how simply knowing someone believes in you can make you that person?” he asked with more intensity. “I had to live up to their faith in me. I had to prove them right. And when Tasnerek finally chose me to be his bearer, it only reaffirmed that belief…. No matter what I’ve learned since, Tasnerek chose me. He knew I was honorable. I would be a good protector of the children of Rassa. I have to be that person.”
Girik frowned. “It doesn’t mean you need to kill yourself to prove it.”
“That’s exactly what it means. This is who I am. It’s what I was trained for. I—”
His proclamations were cut off by a yawn, and when he drew breath to continue, Girik placed a finger to his lips.
“You’re exhausted. I’m exhausted. Maybe we should wait and continue this in the morning.”
Girik felt Tas’s lip curl slightly beneath his finger before he pulled it away. “You’re right. I do need to rest. I’ll be ab
le to think more clearly after I sleep. I hope.”
Taking advantage of the sleepy intimacy between them, Girik traced the backs of his fingers down Tas’s cheek.
“Girik, thank you for today. I—”
“Tomorrow. We’ll think of something tomorrow. And who knows? Maybe you’ll have one of those dreams again, to tell you what to do.”
The only answer he got to his pathetic joke was a quiet sigh before Tas started snoring softly. He snuggled in as closely as he could and let sleep take him as well.
Chapter Fourteen
TAS WAS alone when he woke. Birdsong, woodsmoke, and morning fog filled the air around him as he struggled to throw off the heavy folds of his robe and sit up. His limbs were leaden. Everything ached. He felt as if he’d aged a hundred years overnight. With a groan, he rolled onto his knees and used one of the shelter’s supports to pull himself to his feet, leaving the damp wool robe behind on the straw despite the air being cold enough to make him shiver.
How in the seven hells was he going to chase after the Spawn when he could barely stand on his own?
With a great deal of sweating, shuffling, and puffing, he managed to make it to the creek Girik had taken him to the night before, and he dropped to his knees on the bank and drank greedily. The water was cold enough to make his teeth ache, but he dipped his hands in the icy mountain runoff and splashed his face.
On any other day, the scene around him would have been idyllic. The creek burbled over moss-covered rocks. Misty early-morning sunlight filtered through dense green pines and a few almost naked oak, birch, and maple as the birds sang their hymns in praise to it. He couldn’t have pictured a better place to sing his own morning ritual and to meditate on the many gifts of the gods to their children. Unfortunately, he hadn’t the strength or the time. The Spawn wouldn’t be able to heal itself overnight, but every second that passed made it stronger.
And what are you going to do when you catch up to it?
The Priest Page 12