There was no pain, not any more. There was only the numbness spreading through his body and mind, so he began to wonder if he hadn’t died already, if he was no more than a ghost pulled forward uselessly by a life’s imperative that meant nothing to the dead.
He was a creature of will and little else, shambling toward the lights that seemed to want no part of him. But for all his will, for all his desire to make it home to his family, the dizziness had grown terrible now, and his vision was so blurred that the world had become little more than a black smear of uncertainty. He could make out the vague golden splotches of what must be the lights in the distance. He reached for those lights, yearned for them, but on the next step, his foot twisted underneath him, as if the ground itself betrayed him, and he fell. His head struck something, but he barely felt it.
He had called to the light but, in the end, it was the darkness that answered and, seconds later, he slumped into unconsciousness.
5
He didn’t so much regain consciousness as find himself drifting in and out of it, as if unconsciousness were a great ocean in which he floated, pulled under by the currents one moment only to bob to the surface the next. He felt a pull and there was pain, but in his dazed state it was a distant thing. Manageable, if unwelcome.
Slowly, he opened his eyes. There was a form over him, blurred at first, and a sharp fear cut its way past his lethargy as he thought the robed men had found him after all, had taken him, and were now preparing to deal with him. He would just vanish, as Ulem had, and it would be his clothes thrown into a pile, his blood staining the floor.
He half-grunted, half-gasped as he tried to throw off the hand holding him down. He tried to force his battered body to move, but he was weak, and his captor held firm. “Easy,” a voice said, and it took Torrik’s tortured mind a moment to realize it was a woman’s voice, one he recognized.
“E…Elayna?”
“It’s me, Torrik,” she said, “now, please stay still and be quiet while I finish sewing your wound. Alesh, bring me another of your father’s shirts.”
Stay still. Be quiet. That, at least, he could do, and Torrik lay back, closing his eyes and letting the waters of unconsciousness pull him back down into their dark, comforting depths.
She shook him awake what might have hours or seconds later, and Torrik blinked in the lantern light. Elayna and Alesh stood over him, studying him with troubled expressions, and he forced himself to give them a smile. “I’m…I’m okay,” he said. And though that wasn’t exactly true, he felt better than he had. His thoughts no longer seemed muddled, insubstantial things made of mist that came apart beneath his questing hands, and the wound in his arm, though still painful, was nowhere near as terrible as it had been. He reached out a hand, and Elayna took it, both of them grunting with the effort of leveraging him to a sitting position.
“Thank you,” he managed, suddenly out of breath, and realizing for the first time that she had laid him on the table.
She smiled, but he could see the worry, the fear in her eyes. “You’re welcome—it isn’t as if it’s the first time I’ve had to patch you up after you did something foolish.”
Torrik nodded. “Speaking of that…Elayna there’s been trouble.”
“Oh?” She asked, pointedly staring at the wound on his arm before frowning at him. “I never would have guessed.”
Torrik winced and was about to respond, but she spoke first. “Alesh,” she said, her eyes never leaving her husband, “why don’t you go in your room and play for a while? We’ll come get you in a few minutes.”
“But, Mom,” the boy answered, pleadingly, “I want to stay with you and Dad to make sure…I want to stay.”
“Your father is fine, Alesh,” she said, “now, please. Do what I say—it won’t be long.”
“Okay,” he said, but his voice and the slump of his shoulders as he left, showed he wasn’t happy about it.
The two watched him go, waiting until the door closed before turning back to each other. Torrik started to speak but broke into a coughing fit, and Elayna motioned to his side. “Drink some water—you’ll be parched and weak for a few days, but you’ll be okay.”
Torrik reached out with a trembling hand, retrieving the glass and forcing himself to drink slowly.
“It’s Ulem, isn’t it?” his wife asked.
Torrik sat the glass down, nodding grimly. “Yes. I don’t know for sure—there was no body. But I believe…” He hesitated, meeting her eyes. “I believe they killed him, El.”
She recoiled as if struck, and her face twisted with grief before she mastered it a moment later, doing as Torrik had seen her do before, focusing on the facts. “They?”
He shook his head slowly. “I’m not…I’m not sure. Priests or men posing as priests, dressed in robes. I went to the church before going to Ulem’s house and—”
“The church?” she asked. “Why?”
He winced, shrugging. “I thought I’d at least see what I could, and let him know if I noticed anything…I don’t know, suspicious. I felt guilty about refusing him and I thought maybe it would help him, if I could give him confirmation one way or the other.”
Anger at him putting himself in such danger danced in her eyes, and though she went on with her questions, the look promised that he would hear more of her thoughts later. “And?”
He grunted. “And a priest met me at the door—or, at least, a man in a robe. He was standing there as if he’d been waiting. He told me the church was closed for repairs.”
She frowned at that. “Closed?”
“Yes. So I left. I didn’t let them know who I was, of course, taking my time and going to Ulem’s house. Anyway, a man followed me. I hid in the bushes until he passed, then went inside.”
He realized now, with more than a little shame, that he had smelled the blood as soon as he’d entered the house. Either his mind hadn’t made the connection, or it hadn’t wanted to. Spy indeed, he thought sourly. “Anyway,” he said, forcing the words out, “there was another robed man there. He was cleaning blood off the floor. He had a knife, and he attacked me before I could say anything.”
“He’s the one who stabbed you.”
“No,” Torrik said, sighing, “that was a second one. He came in after…after the first was dead.”
Her eyes went wide at that. “Two of them? Amedan be thanked that you’re still alive!” She wrapped him in a tight embrace then, and Torrik barely managed to suppress a wince of pain as she did.
After a moment, she released him and studied him with eyes full of unshed tears. “Then what? Did the second man follow you?”
“Not unless his spirit did,” Torrik said. “He’s dead, along with the first.”
“And Ulem?”
He shook his head. “I never saw him. Wherever he is, he wasn’t at home but—”
“Then he could be okay,” she said, a desperate fierceness in her voice. “He might not be dead, after all. Perhaps, he escaped or—” She went silent as he withdrew the ring from his pocket and set it on the table.
Elayna stared at the small iron circle as if it were a snake rearing back to bite, and for some time she said nothing. Then, finally, in a voice barely loud enough for him to hear, “Is that…?”
“Ulem’s ring,” he confirmed. “The one Maline gave him.”
“But…” She was shaking her head then, as if her denial might somehow negate the truth of the thing, as if it might somehow make the ring vanish. “But Ulem wouldn’t trade that ring for anything in the world. He would never take it off. Never.”
“No,” Torrik said, unable to keep his grief from his voice. “Not if he were alive.”
Elayna let out a choked sob, and it was he who pulled her into an embrace this time. “I know, El. I know.” They stayed like that for some time, then she pulled back, her eyes wide.
“When would you say you made it to the church?”
Torrik frowned, thrown off-guard by the unusual question. But he knew well his wife,
her intelligence, and if she was asking, there was a reason for it. He considered for a moment. “I…I can’t be sure, but I guess I’d say around two hours after dawn or so.”
She nodded once, a look of intense concentration on her face. “And the men at Ulem’s house, when did they attack you?”
“I…maybe an hour and a half later. Or two. Look, El, I can’t be sure—”
“And then, after that was done, you came back here.” This last wasn’t really a question, but Torrik nodded anyway.
“I took a bit of time in town, checking out the wares to avoid any suspicion, but yeah. I came back here after.”
She rubbed at her eyes then, as if exhausted, and when she took her hand away the tears were coming freely, a look of fear on her face that Torrik had only seen once before. It had been when Alesh was a baby, taking a nap, and he had not wanted to rouse from sleep. Had not woken, in fact, until, panicked himself, Torrik slapped him on the back, gentle at first, then not so gently at all until Alesh had finally woken from his deep sleep. He had not been happy, but he had been alive, and Torrik and Elayna who—by that time—had been half-convinced their child would never wake from his sleep as they’d heard tale of in some of the towns they visited, had spent the next hours thanking Amedan and the other gods, big and small, for keeping their child safe. It was a terrifying time—the most terrifying he had ever experienced.
Seeing that same look on her face now made his heart begin to hammer in his chest, and suddenly he broke out in a cool sweat. “What is it, El? What is it?”
“About two hours after dawn,” Elayna said, her voice carefully controlled, so it sounded emotionless, but Torrik knew that her control was a dam that might break at any moment, serving, for now, only to hold back some powerful emotion, “Alesh was still sleeping. I heard something and went into his room. He was talking in his sleep, his face…Torrik, he looked so scared I nearly woke him up. I had only decided to do just that when he stopped.”
Torrik thought that he probably didn’t want to know, but he asked anyway. “What was he saying?”
She shook her head, frustrated. “I couldn’t hear it all only…he was saying ‘Daddy’ over and over. And then…it might have been ‘danger’ but I can’t be sure.”
Torrik swallowed hard, and was still trying to digest that information, when she went on. “A couple of hours after that, he was playing outside. I was sitting on the porch, watching him. Abruptly, he just stopped playing and ran up to me. And out of nowhere, he asked me…he said, ‘Mom, can Daddy die?’”
Torrik’s mouth was suddenly unaccountably dry. He did not want to hear anymore, but he could see she was not done, and he watched as her mouth worked, as she thought through what she would say. “And the last…” she said. “I was obviously worried, when you didn’t get home by dark, when I hadn’t heard from you. I’d thought something happened. I was just getting some stuff together, ready to make the trip to town to look for you, when Alesh stopped me, putting a hand on mine. He was so serious, Torrik,” she said, meeting his eyes, “so…adult. He said, ‘We don’t have to go to town, Mama. Daddy’s here. But I think he’s in trouble.’”
She shook her head, giving a hitching sigh. “He led me to you. Without Alesh…” She finally did break down then, the emotions she had only just been managing to hold in check finally tearing through the weak wall she had placed in front of them. She began to weep, burying her head in her hands.
Torrik held her then, hoping his touch might offer the comfort his words could not. And the truth was, he didn’t need her to finish what she’d been about to say—he thought he knew well enough. Without Alesh, without whatever feeling he’d had—if feeling it was—Torrik would be dead.
“Mama? Daddy? It’s okay.”
They both turned to see Alesh standing in the doorway of his room, studying them with wide, childlike eyes. Despite whatever gifts he had, he was still just a boy, and Torrik’s heart ached at the sight of him there, obviously afraid and trying to comfort them. He had left his role as an agent of the Light for the express purpose of protecting Alesh, refusing to bring him into the shadowy, dangerous world of which he had been a part. He had wanted the boy to live a normal life, a happy one, but it seemed Amedan, in his wisdom, had other plans.
Torrik gave his son the best smile he could and beckoned him over. Alesh ran to them, and soon the three were wrapped in a tight embrace. Outside, the lanterns gave off their wavery light, the shadows capered and danced, and darkness came in truth.
6
“I still don’t like it.”
Torrik turned back at the threshold to their home. The early morning sun shone on his back, giving a warmth that did nothing to dispel the chill he felt, the same chill he’d had since first seeing the church of Amedan the day before. “I don’t either, Elayna,” he said, “but…but I think I owe Ulem this much, at least. And even more than that, if there really is something going on in the church, then the authorities need to know about it.”
“Authorities that, for all we know, are involved,” Elayna said.
Torrik resisted the urge to sigh. They’d been over and over this the night before, and he knew his wife agreed with him. Right now, she spoke not just for her fear, but for his as well, acknowledging the truth of the dangers they faced. “I know,” he said, cupping her face in his hand, “but I’ll be careful. I mean to have a word with Bishop Deckard, that’s all. I think Ulem is beyond our help, but I don’t know it, and I have to be sure. We have to be sure.”
She nodded, her gaze troubled. “I know. You’re right, I know, it’s only…I’m worried, Torrik. I had…I had a bad dream last night.”
Torrik swallowed hard. The Church chose its agents for reasons, searching out men and women who showed some small signs of carrying a blessing from one of the gods. An incredible talent in certain skills—music, art, a thousand others—or something like the feelings he sometimes got, warning him of danger. Feelings that, just then, were running riot, urging him to flee as fast as possible, to walk until even the dust of the town was no longer on his feet. He had his feelings, and Elayna, well, she had her dreams. “Do you want to tell me about it?”
She studied him for a moment, worrying at her lip, a nervous habit of hers. “Would it change anything?”
Torrik considered that, gazing around at the property, at the forest stretched out beyond it, and the path that lay before the forest, the one that would take him back to the town. “I don’t think so…” he said. “I don’t think it can. If we left, and it turned out Ulem was still alive…”
“I know,” Elayna said. “Then no; I will not tell you. Besides, the dreams aren’t always accurate, you know that. Sometimes…” She shrugged weakly. “Sometimes, nightmares are only nightmares and nothing more. Still, hurry back to us.”
Torrik gave her the best smile he could—a poor, weak thing. “Of course. And our belongings?”
“Will be packed and ready by the time you get here,” she said.
He nodded. “Good. No matter what happens, we leave tomorrow morning. I’ll send a letter to an old friend I know in the Church, one I know I can trust, then it’s their problem to deal with.”
“Tomorrow morning,” Elayna repeated. “You promise?”
“Of course,” he said, taking her hands. “El, I just want our life back. Our normal life.”
“Normal,” she said, glancing at Alesh where he played in the yard. “May Amedan make it so.”
Torrik followed her gaze, and forced down the emotions threatening to well up as he looked at his son. “I’ll see you soon, El.”
He started down the path, refusing the urge to turn, knowing that if he did, he would never leave. I’m coming, Ulem, he thought. If you’re still alive, I’m coming. But, no matter the thought, he couldn’t shake the feeling that it was too late for Ulem. And your family? Is it too late for them?
Amedan give me strength.
7
The church looked the same as it had the day befo
re—deserted, ominous—and it was a struggle to put each foot in front of the other as he made his way to the door.
A robed man answered his knock. The man smiled, pleasantly enough. “Hello. I’m sorry, but I’m afraid the church is closed.”
“Oh, that’s quite alright,” Torrik said, giving a smile he did not feel. “I came by yesterday and was told as much by a different priest. I don’t mean to bother you, only, this is my first time in Entin. I thought, while I was here, I’d look up an old friend of mine—his name’s Ulem. Have you heard of him?”
The robed man’s smile gave a noticeable twitch, but he mastered himself a moment later. “Of course,” he said, “we all know Brother Ulem. He is a great man, and his wisdom a boon to us all.”
“Right, that sounds like him,” Torrik agreed. And then, because he heard the sarcasm in the man’s voice, even if he hadn’t intended it, “At least, the only thing wiser than Ulem is how wise he thinks he is.”
The robed man started to laugh but stopped himself. “Ah, Brother Ulem has his own obstacles and struggles, of course. But, then, so do we all. Still, I’m afraid I have not seen him today.”
Torrik sighed. “I understand. Still, any help you could give me would be greatly appreciated.” He glanced around the street, leaning in close before he spoke. “The truth is, the man owes me a bit of coin. I hate to bring it up like this—Amedan knows, I don’t want to get him in trouble as he seems a good enough sort. But my wife and I have a child on the way—our second—and I could use every Dawn or Dusk I could get my hands on. I’m sure you understand.”
The priest seemed to consider that. “If you’ll wait one moment, sir.”
“Of course.”
The man closed the door, and Torrik waited anxiously, forcing himself not to fidget. Was the man gathering more of his brothers, even now, to come and kill this stranger? Had Torrik left something to betray his presence in Ulem’s house, after all?
The Forging of Dawn Page 6