Dralin (15 page)

“I’d take her and raise her with Pelya, but
I don’t think they’d let me,” Frath said sadly.

“No, no. Of course not,” she replied with a
dismissive wave. “Don’t be silly. I’m just happy that you didn’t
dump
your
daughter off on me too,” she told him, resting her
chin on the backs of her hands.

Her words irritated Frath. He knew her
feelings on raising children and never even asked to bring Pelya.
The casual disregard for another life made him angry though. Frath
respected Lady Pallon except for this one trait.

He must have been glaring, because Lady
Pallon raised an eyebrow. “My, my. Such a fierce look. Whatever is
it for?”

“I have never asked you to care for Pelya,
never
. And I certainly wouldn’t
dump
her off on you.”
Frath said in livid tones. “You invited me and Sheela into your
home and we only came if we felt it wouldn’t be a burden. If my
friendship is unwanted because I now have a child, I’ll leave.”

“My, my. You
are
in a foul mood.”
Lady Pallon was completely unfazed by the reaction. “Of course I
want you around. You are my best friend, even if you do have a
child.” She leaned forward and winked. “I’ve decided not to hold
that against you.”

Frath stared at her, and then laughed in
spite of himself. It only lasted a second, but that was enough to
defuse the anger. “What do you mean when you say I don’t have to
get on with my life?” he asked, going back to the statement from
the garden.

“I mean you can lie down and die if you
wish,” she answered with a flip of a hand. “You don’t
have
to get on with your life. Many people don’t.”

He rolled his eyes, stood and looked into
the crib. Ebudae had brown hair a little thinner than Pelya’s but
her eyes were pink like her mother and grandmother. They were
closed at the moment, but Frath knew there was just as much
attitude in them as in Pelya’s. Both girls were going to be
spitfires.

“When they grow older, I’d like them to
become playmates, if you’re willing,” Lady Pallon said.

Frath stood and nodded. “I’d like that too,
although I have a feeling they’ll get into all sorts of
trouble.”

“Of course they will. But at least they’ll
do it together. It’s much better than getting into trouble alone,”
she pointed out.

“Yeah. Good point,” he agreed. Turning back
to her, he said, “I have someplace to go. Thank you again for
showing me the fountain and roses. I’ll stop by now and then. When
the girls are older they can get into all kinds of trouble and then
get each other out of it.”

“Take care of you, Frath,” she told him as
they hugged. “You’re my favorite person and I worry about you.”

“I will.” He saw himself out and walked to
the street. From there he went through the Orphan District to the
tunnel. Soon he was standing in front of the doors to the
church.

The flowers growing where Sheela’s ashes had
been spread were Distra’s, of that he was certain. What Frath
didn’t understand was why the goddess had given him the ring and
then let them be happy, only to take Sheela away from him.

He pushed through the doors and marched down
the aisle toward the statue. It made no movement. Frath debated
what to say, but the words just weren’t coming. He paced back and
forth in front of it, pounding his fists into his thighs. Tears of
frustration welled up.

Finally, he stopped and faced the statue.
“Why, Distra?” Frath pleaded. “Why did you take her from me? Why
couldn’t you let her live?” It remained silent and motionless.

Frath screamed. “Why?! Why couldn’t she
live?!” When there was no answer, he screamed wordlessly toward the
ceiling. From deep in his legs, up through his gut and chest, an
angry roar burst from his throat.

He fell to his knees and sobbed heavily. The
loss didn’t just hurt, it ripped open his chest and poured
agonizing fire into it. He couldn’t sleep at night because whenever
he closed his eyes, he remembered the feel of her and the smile on
her face. His muscles were tense all the time with no way to
relax.

“You gave me the ring to give to her,” Frath
accused hoarsely out of frustration and bewilderment, looking up at
the cowled head. “I thought you liked her. I thought you would save
her. I thought she could live a life of happiness after having a
life of despair.” He hung his head again. His shoulders slumped in
defeat while a new batch of tears began to flow. “Why Distra? Why
couldn’t she be happy?”

The voice moved through the church like a
whisper on the breeze. “She knew more happiness in her time with
you than most experience in their entire lives.” There was an edge
to it like a blade that had just drawn blood.

Frath looked up at the piercing, violet
eyes. They were the only thing he could see from that point on. The
statue and everything else faded into shadows.

“She wasn’t fated to be happy at all. Had
she not met you, her remaining life would have been short and
filled with terror.” Distra’s voice ruthlessly filled his skull. It
hurt and felt good all at the same time. Blood began to trickle
from his nose and ears.

“
You
saved her. You gave her a level
of joy few in this world ever know.” The purple eyes flared. “I do
not
like
joy. It is
not
my friend, Frath Jornin.
However, I like you and I like her, therefore I tolerated joy in my
church. I even caused flowers to grow next to that accursed
fountain of the Sun Goddess because of it.”

Frath took a deep, shuddering breath as the
force of his goddess pushed him back along the floor. It was
uncommon for a deity to speak directly to a person. Most mortals
could not endure the contact.

“She was not able to survive in this world,
this lifetime. You gave her happiness and received a daughter in
return. Be miserable if you wish,
but do not whine and wail at
me!
” The last words blasted him across the church to slam into
the doors.

As he crumpled to the ground, Frath saw the
eyes fading back into the darkness of the statue’s cowl.

Chapter
9

Frath’s head felt like an anvil. As his mind
began to focus, he realized the miserable groaning sound he was
hearing came from
his
throat. Every fiber of his body hurt
and his own odor assaulted his senses. Between groans, the silence
around him pounded against his ears.

The first clear thought he had was that it
was dangerous to be in a weakened state. His training kicked in at
that point and he began a mental checklist drilled into all members
of the guard. He took a slow, deep breath. It was ragged and his
throat hurt, but he could breathe. His mouth was dry, scummy and
cracked. Next, he listened carefully for any sounds. There was
nothing but the heavy silence. Then he sniffed the air for anything
dangerous like smoke or the acrid stench of polluted magic. All he
smelled was his own urine and feces, which let him know he had been
unconscious deeply enough to lose control of his bodily functions.
Next, he focused on his bones, muscles and skin to determine
whether anything was broken, torn or bleeding. It was an
excruciating experience, but for all the pain, he was still
whole.

Frath was mostly certain he was alive, so he
concentrated on the last thing he remembered before losing
consciousness. The memory of Distra’s purple eyes filled his skull
and stabbing pain shot through his head. Everything came flooding
back: the words of Distra, the promise that Pelya and Ebudae would
become playmates, the meal at the Shining Shield Inn, the birth of
his daughter, and the death of his betrothed. The stabbing pains in
his skull were joined by more in his heart.

His body refused to cooperate when he
decided to stand up. Focusing his willpower, he forced his arms
underneath him. Frath pushed to his hands and knees with a mighty
yell. He stayed there for a few moments, trembling from the
effort.

It took effort to open his crusty eyes.
Frath wondered how long he had been unconscious. As if on cue, his
stomach squeezed in hunger to inform him that it had been much too
long. He looked around and saw movement in the dim candlelight.

Alarm seized him and the trembling in his
body froze. Then he realized that the movement was just shadows
dancing sadly wherever light cast them. Frath blinked his eyes a
few times and managed to bring up one of his arms to wipe some of
the crust away.

Expecting to see normal shadows, he looked
around again. The scene didn’t change. Shadows were, in fact,
dancing sadly throughout the church. He could see the mournful
movements of each one. They weren’t human shadows, but they felt
grief nonetheless.

He took a hand that was being held out to
help him up. As he reached his feet and stumbled, realization
dawned that the hand had been offered by his own shadow. A
flickering candle caused it to jump away then leap back against the
doors before it waved at him with an insincere motion.

Frath smacked himself in the face, startling
the shadow. It was the only thing he could think of to make his
sanity come back. All it did was make his head hurt worse.

It was more than Frath could take, so he
made a run for it, only to bump into the door when his hand didn’t
open it quickly enough. He barely managed to stay on his feet while
he refocused. The next thing he knew, his shadow was opening it for
him. Goosebumps danced on his skin, but Frath had a personal policy
to be polite when the situation called for it. “Thank you,” he told
the shadow in a voice that was more of a croak. The shadow bowed
and let him walk through the door before following and closing it
behind them.

The ground in front of Frath shifted back
and forth, swaying like one of those ships he had heard about but
hadn’t seen, never having been out of Dralin. It was early morning
judging by the glow to his left. The entrance was on the south side
of the church, so he knew left was east. Frath concentrated on
putting one foot in front of the other, staggering to the gate and
into the dark street.

Piohray and Siahray, the two moons of
Ryallon, were both partially full in the early dawn sky. When the
red light of Piohray mixed with the bluish-green light of Siahray,
it made the world glow lavender in most places. In Dralin, it just
looked dirty. It was bright enough to cast shadows everywhere. He
had hoped things would become normal once outside, but even these
shadows were swaying sadly. They didn’t move nearly as much as the
shadows cast by the flickering candles though.

Why are they sad? Does Distra have
something to do with it?
Thinking about it made his head ache,
so he focused on where he was going instead.

Nightmarish figures were shuffling nearby
along a side street. They noticed him. Normally he would jog away,
but his legs told him that wasn’t an option at that particular
moment and he would have to think of something else.

Frath stopped and put a hand on the hilt of
his sword, but the arm was in the same camp as the legs. His eyes
confronted the danger alone.

His eyes couldn’t believe what they saw
next. Shadows moved along the ground and rose up in front of the
figures. The shuffling creatures turned and moved away as quickly
as possible. Then the shadows flowed back to their proper
spots.

Frath shook his head in disbelief, but
instantly regretted it as pain nauseated him. He took a few deep
breaths before lurching toward the tunnel out of the district. All
his bones and muscles ached badly. Being thrown though the air to
slam against a door was the least of what was causing the distress.
The effects from having the goddess take hold of his mind made his
eyes hurt and his skin feel warped.

He didn’t know how long he had been
unconscious, but Frath had the impression more than a day had
passed. He hoped Pelya was alright and that the sergeant hadn’t
turned her over to an orphanage. Frath would die if his daughter
had to suffer a childhood anything like his.

A group of young men started following him
shortly after he reached the streets of the Orphan District. Frath
did his best to ignore them since he wasn’t in any condition to
fight. He knew he couldn’t withstand another beating and hoped they
would just let him be.

It wasn’t his lucky morning. One of the
young men moved in front of him and started smacking a club in his
hand. “Well, what do we have here? It looks like a City Guardsman
out by himself in the Orphan District. Perhaps he’s looking for a
little girl to molest.”

Another one behind Frath spoke up. “Or
perhaps a little boy?” They laughed at their cleverness while Frath
concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other.

“It looks like the little girl messed him up
good!” another voice taunted, eliciting more laughter.

“Look at his eyes. Maybe he found a puddle
of magical pollution to suck on,” yet another mocked. “Maybe we
shouldn’t get too close.” The mocking changed to concern and Frath
became worried about the comments. He didn’t think he had run afoul
of any pollution, but becoming one of the Deformed was one of the
worst nightmares in Dralin.

The club flew out of the first young man’s
hand. Laughter ceased as everyone watched it clatter along the
cobble. “What? Hey?” Then he was knocked down. The others also fell
suddenly, scattering in all directions as though they pulled
backward. Whenever one would try to get up with yells of surprise
and panic, they were knocked back down. After a minute of that,
they started crawling off and running away as fast as possible.

Frath thought it must have looked extremely
odd to anyone watching to see a guardsman limping along in the
middle of a street while a bunch of thugs kept falling down around
him with no apparent cause. What the inexperienced thugs hadn’t
seen were the shadows that pulled on their legs and arms, keeping
them away from Frath.