Tryss’s hand curled into a fist. Her pale face reddened. “I’m not a monster,” she said, and a hard edge sharpened her voice. “It’s not…it’s not some disease to be spread around.”
“Do you know how chemas turn into shards?” Errance challenged.
“Do you?”
He hesitated. “No,” he said finally.
She was beginning to tremble as she clutched her shoulder and leaned forward. “I am not a monster,” she said again. “And I’m tired of being treated like one. I’m away from my home, taking care of two children and a strange man who glowers at me every chance he gets. We could have stayed with Coren and Zizain, we could have gone over the sea, but instead we’re out here, so if you could stop thinking the worst of me for once—”
She suddenly broke off and spun away, lurching forward on her hands and knees—and proceeded to be sick to the stomach.
Tellie and Kelm drew back in dismay. It occurred somewhere in the depths of Tellie’s mind that it would be kind to go and hand her a cloth, but then, there wasn’t much good in two people being sick.
Then Errance was kneeling alongside her. A moment ago, he’d been sitting very still under her tirade, but now he was there with hardly a flicker of a shadow. Without a word, he lifted her up and slipped his knee under her sternum. She didn’t seem to notice or else was too sick to care, but she braced against his leg as another heave shook her slender body. His face expressed nothing, neither disgust nor sympathy. But he caught the loose tendrils of hair hanging about her cheeks and swept them back with a deft hand. They remained thus until her shaking and coughing ceased.
“Would you stop that,” she mumbled, wiping her mouth.
“Stop what?”
“You know. The arrow, the accusations, the…this. Stop being so confusing, will you?”
He didn’t answer.
After a moment, she pushed away and looked at the wide-eyed children. “I’m not turning into a monster,” she said weakly. “Grandfather said it was never certain what changed a chema to a shard, but that it wasn’t a sickness.”
They ate their meal in silence and then huddled down into the grass as the sky began to darken and the air cooled. Tryss huddled in a ball, murmurs of pain slipping free now and then.
“Could you heal her, Errance?” Tellie blurted. “The light within you heals you, and your father could withdraw it. Can you?”
He sighed heavily. “No. I’ve tried to pull it out many times, even when I was back in Aselvia, but a half portion is not powerful enough.”
“How’s that?” Kelm asked.
“It is not passed through blood exactly,” he murmured. “It’s a gift. Exchanged by spouses and passed on by mother to child. My mother had received the gift from Daava…I was only meant to have a small portion.”
It was very hard to hear him now, and Tellie had to strain for every word. Though thrilled to finally have him reminiscing, she wondered why he opened up now, what aches had split his heart unseen.
“But I came too early, and Daava was up North that day. So she gave me all that she had been given. And she died. It has sustained me through all these years. And now he’s dead.” His voice strangled. It came forth again in the most trembling of whispers. “Why is he dead, Tellie?”
She swallowed hard, staring at the stars for all she was worth, hoping an answer could be found written among them. “I…I don’t know. They said he faded. They didn’t know why. Though…some said…it was from grief.”
Without a word, he rolled onto his side, away from her, and did not make another sound.
Hot tears filled her eyes, turning cool on her cheeks. She wished she had some word of comfort, some way to heal his hurting. But in the end, she had nothing to say because she knew there was no help for such pain. After all…she’d killed her parents too.
Dawn brought little comfort or healing for Tryss was more waxen than ever and little beads of sweat dewed her forehead. Tellie, not completely inept as a nurse, kept soaking a rag with fresh, cool water and dabbed her face, but whatever relief that brought could not bring any strength into her limbs.
“She can’t travel like this,” Tellie said anxiously, looking to where Errance’s silhouette stood in the dusky morning glow. “And none of her herbs are taking effect!”
There was no indication he heard her, so she bent back over Tryss’s feverish brow with a sigh.
“You could always carry her,” Kelm suggested.
Errance turned at that, eyes narrow and bright. “What?”
“You know, on your back.”
Cough rattling from her throat, Tryss shook her head in fretful disagreement. “H-hanging onto someone’s back for dear life sounds just as…impossible as walking.”
“That’s easy,” the boy continued, not at all offset by rebuff. “You just tie her on.”
“Oh!” Tellie rummaged through her pack, flinging out a familiar long scarf of gauzy pink. “Would this work?”
Tryss stared, sickly eyes momentarily clearing in amazement. “Tellie…I threw that away.”
“I know,” she said, bashfully twisting the silken scarf about her hand. “But it was too pretty to leave behind, so I took it. It would be more comfortable than rope, wouldn’t it? And we might need our rope for something else.”
Errance considered in silence, every thought concealed behind that invisible wall he could raise. Such an achingly long amount of time passed they began to wonder if he’d moved on to other thoughts, when he abruptly said, “If there’s no other way.” He dropped to one knee beside Tryss, facing away. “Help get her on, Kelm.”
Despite Tryss’s slurred protests, Kelm hefted her up and propped her against his back. Tellie ran over with the scarf, and between the effort of all four of them, they had Tryss slumped against Errance, arms over his shoulders, legs bound securely against his hips, and scarf wrapped around waist and shoulders coming to a knot at his chest. Tellie tied the knot in a pretty bow, which Errance promptly undid with a scowl.
“We’ll rest in the shade during the midday hours,” he said as he straightened. “And then we won’t stop until the light has faded.”
They grumbled at that, but not too loudly, for his gaze swept back the way they had come, back the way their hunters would come in pursuit. So they swallowed their miseries and prepared for yet another day of grueling journey.
oOo
The miner chipped away at the stone, making as much progress as the wind against granite. His bent back pulsed with an unending pain that had become as constant as the grimy air he breathed. No spirit shone out of his eyes, not anymore. For no longer was there anything to live for in this grey world of stone and broken dreams.
The Prisoner was gone.
Perhaps they had finally killed him, the miner thought. He supposed he should be happy for the Prisoner’s sake, whose desire for death had been etched into his face as clearly as the marks he bore. But he could not help but feel sorry for himself and all the other prisoners. None of them could remember a time the Prisoner had not worked beside them, unwithered and unbent by the relentless toil. He’d been their last reason to hope, their last glimpse of another world. No longer could they admire his proud, emotionless face. No longer was he there to protect them from the overseers’ mad will. He was gone. And he would never return.
The miner found it his turn to be one of those to cart the chipped stone back up to the entrances and send it rolling down the steep slopes. Yet not even the outside air could lift his spirits for though it was crisp it was laden with malice so thick he could barely inhale.
The fortress of Tertorem drew his eye against his will. The spires rose like thorns from the rocks, and suspended between the two tallest hung the Nyght. The dark clouds in the sky whirled to a point above the sphere, and though its black surface never varied, the miner could see that the Nyght was full of wrath. The storm clouds cracked in thunder and lightning so that the entire sky writhed with an eerie green glow.
The Darknes
s dwelt in the Nyght, so it was said. If it was so, then the Darkness was angry.
Shuddering, the miner dumped his load and hurried back inside, not bothering to watch the stones rattle down the hill to break upon shattered bones.
He could only pray that the Darkness’s wrath would not fall on them.
23
oOo
The landscape is endless. Golden dunes and silver sea stretch out on one side, the shadows of mountains on another. I knew the world was vast, but I’d never had the chance to see it until now. It is not as stunning or dramatic as my homeland. But it is still strangely beautiful.
Four days. Four whole days of walking across those tiresome hills, crossing sandy stream after sandy stream. It seemed impossible that one could survive such monotony, but now they all stood as living testimony on the brink of a hill, looking towards a changed world. The crisp ocean breeze left their hair stiff with salt and crystallized the sweat in white patterns upon their skin. Ahead, the valleys and hills rose into steep gullies and jagged mountains, the sand and grass giving way to scree and shrub.
The road for the common traveler remained skirting the sea and no other path dared branch off into the treachery of the mountains. But none of them wanted to travel along the road so they climbed up into the mountains with no guide but intrepid will. The going was slow as they scrambled up ledges and narrow rock paths, often using the scraggly trees as an aid, but the struggle was welcome after the dreadful plodding across the plains. Wild goats startled from thickets and bounded to a safe height so they could stare down at the strangers who’d invaded their homeland.
By the time sunset spread its saffron hues across the sky, they had made good progress into the wild. A tangle of trees rose up all about them, the glitter of the sea shining through the thicket.
Tryss’s health had leveled, neither improving nor declining. She was still weak and feverish, and the wound was refusing to heal, the same grey shadow haunting her skin.
When night fell, Tellie curled up on the ground, a crumpled cloak folded under her head. She peered up through branches into the sky where stars gathered so thickly she might have sworn a fog floated overhead. Only in the halo of the moon did the stars die away, fading in respect of her radiance.
The moon medallion mirrored the sphere above with such perfection that Tellie could have believed she held the lady of the night in her hand. During the day, the medallion was pretty, but when darkness fell, she often wondered how she was even allowed to hold such a precious piece.
It belonged to Errance. It bothered her that he would not take it. Rendar had passed on in this world; surely that meant Errance was king now, and thus should take the medallion as his birthright.
Rolling over, she looked to where the elf sat on a fallen tree, taking the first watch of the night.
There were some old tales that said the true nature of a man could be seen under the moon’s glow. In that light, Tellie thought he looked fairer than he had ever been. The rays of moonlight casting through the trees softened him with a pure, holy glow, the light and shadows dancing across his body in vivid contrast. One knee was drawn up to keep him from sliding down the log and he rested an arm upon it, his other arm braced against the wood. His face turned to the sky, and his gently stirring hair was so awash in moonlight that it almost shone white.
She rolled back over so that Errance wouldn’t feel her shameless stare and wrapped the cloak tightly around her. But fear shivered through her body at the sensation he’d vanish simply because she’d looked away. With Tryss sick, he wouldn’t leave them again, would he? The terror of his abandonment of them still haunted her, drove her mad with confusion. They needed him and he needed them, couldn’t he see that?
Exhaustion pressed her eyelids shut, the haze of sleep enveloping her. But in the moment she fell asleep, she became more alert than ever. This time she could feel the weight of her slumbering body and the pressure of her closed eyes. With an impatient shake, she rose out of it, looking expectantly for Rendar.
He stood a few feet away, staring at Errance.
“Rendar?” she said, approaching him hesitantly. He did not respond, so she came to his side and waited.
Rendar’s breath caught. “He almost seems like himself here…under the shelter of the trees and the moon.”
On the contrary, he seemed nothing like himself or at least not the Errance she knew. But who was that Errance even? Did she know him at all, any side of him? “I don’t understand him, Rendar,” she said with a sigh. “You said something about our spirits being similar, but I’ve never felt more distant from anyone before. I mean, I thought I knew him, thought he survived through protecting. And he does that sometimes. But he also left us.” She stared up at the king, biting her lip. “I thought he cared. About us. About returning home. But he doesn’t seem excited to return home. We’d already be there by now if we’d taken the ship.”
At last, Rendar turned his gaze from son to her. “Sometimes, child,” he said, “it’s the people we love whom we fear the most.”
She blinked. “But that makes no sense, Rendar, none at all! All my life, I’ve been searching for people to love me! I’d never run away from them; I long for them!”
Something like a sigh or perhaps a sob caught in Rendar’s throat. “You are so alike,” he said, turning away with a swift jerk of his shoulders.
“What? But I just said—”
“Tellie,” he interrupted. “Are you willing to see Errance as he truly is?”
She paused the moment before she said yes, a sudden fear gripping her. How dreadful would it be? Could she be able to withstand the pressure of his pain and devastation? Would she be able to look into his eyes and know the secrets of his soul? “I…I believe so. I think. I must.”
“Then I will create a dream for you,” Rendar said. “It will not be real, but perhaps it shall reveal the truth.”
“All right.” She nervously twisted her fingers, pushing aside the wish for someone at her side like Tryss or even Kelm.
Rendar’s hand lightly pressed against her shoulders and turned her again to Errance. She gasped. There upon the tree sat a boy no older than seven. He seemed to be waiting for someone, swinging his leg with restless abandon. She’d seen this Errance before in what she now realized was her first vision into the Unseen.
“Rendar, you can’t mean that’s all Errance really is,” she protested.
He shook his head sorrowfully. “No, no, that is simply what he was. My memory of his spirit come to life. Only memory, not real, but still true.” Lifting his chin, he called out in a clear but trembling voice, “Errance!”
The boy’s head spun towards them. “Father!” He sprang off the tree and ran towards Rendar. He barely came to his father’s waist, but his slender arms reached up in yearning to be caught up high. Such life sparkled in his body, even in the bounce of his silken brown hair.
Tellie watched in muddled shock, unable to reconcile the boy of the past with the man of the present. They were nothing like each other, not at all. And yet when the memory of the boy turned and stared at her with an uncertain crease in his brow, the expression belonged to Errance.
“Errance,” Rendar said. “I should like you to accompany Tellie for a while.”
A smile as bright and sweet as the crescent moon lit his face, and the sight of it stabbed Tellie through the heart. No, that smile was gone forever from Errance. This boy was truly just a figment of bygone years.
Errance, though her mind rebelled at calling him that, reached toward her and caught her hand. “Come on,” he said.
She began to follow, but paused at the sight of a winged, grey animal the size of a small cat clinging to his back. “What is that?” she gasped.
He spun around to look, the creature swaying on his back. “What’s what?”
The creature was staring back at her down its narrow muzzle, blue eyes narrowed in annoyance. Its tufted ears were lying against its head. “I’m a daisha,” the creature sa
id, teeth showing.
“Good heavens, it talks,” Tellie said, clutching a hand to her chest. She felt she would have been more frightened had it happened in real life. A vague part of her remembered she’d heard of daishas before, but she was fairly certain people said they were extinct.
With a fragile flutter of its wings, the creature sprang to Rendar’s shoulder and eyed Tellie with a sulky glare.
Errance laughed. “Don’t you know what a daisha is? They’re people too, you know. Anyway, hurry up, I have something to show you.”
The world around them had transformed into an entirely different sort of forest than she’d been in before. Bright mist floated in the still air through the lacy hemlock trees that brushed past her face as Errance led her up a mossy incline. The dewdrops glowed at his passing, and it took Tellie a moment before she realized with surprise that in this dream he was the one wearing the moon medallion, and it reflected a full moon.
He led her straight up to a crevice in a rocky cliff side and slipped in. She pulled her hand out of his at once. “Oh!” She took several steps back. “Ah, little…little Errance, I don’t want to go in there.”
His head poked back out to stare up at her. “Why?”
“I’m bad in caves,” she said. Or any dark, cramped place for that matter.
“But there’s a surprise,” he insisted. “It’s not dark and scary, believe me. It’s my favorite place in the world.” He paused and tilted his head as if weighing his claim again, but she took a deep breath and nodded. This was just a dream after all, and she could be braver here.
She crouched and wriggled her way through the opening after him, relieved to discover it was not so restricted inside. She followed the glow of the medallion deeper and deeper. She did not quite notice that the wet rocks under her feet gradually turned into wooden boards that creaked with each step. That is, she did not notice until she realized the glow ahead of her no longer belonged to Errance.
She froze. “Errance?”
He did not answer.
Trying to calm her racing pulse, she dropped to her knees and crawled along the floorboards till she neared the light which turned out to be a broken board in a wall. She seemed to be an attic, and the light came from the room below. Curling her legs underneath her, she bent and listened.
Moonscript (Kings of Aselvia Book 1) Page 28