Souls of Aredyrah 3 - The Taking of the Dawn (17 page)

Torin arched his back, and Reiv felt certain
he was going to be bucked off, but then Torin went still.

Reiv looked at Cora with concern.

“He’s only fainted,” she said. Reiv moved to
lift himself off, but she ordered him to stay. “He might reawaken.
You’d best stay put.”

Reiv felt uncomfortable, sitting on Torin
like that. Heat flared to his cheeks. For a moment he thought to
climb off, regardless of what Cora said could happen if Torin
awoke. But what if Torin did awake? Reiv gritted his teeth,
suddenly aware that he was more concerned about a man discovering
him astride his backside than he was of a potential slip of the
knife.”

“Reiv?”

Cora’s voice drew Reiv from his thoughts.

“It’s out. I need you to reheat the
knife.”

Reiv realized the shaft was now lying on the
blanket, and blood was pouring from the wound.

Cora pressed a cloth to it. “Hurry,” she
said. “I need to get the bleeding stopped.”

Reiv scrambled up and out to the campfire.
Gem was standing to the side of it, tossing in sticks. “Thank you
for keeping it going,” Reiv said. Gem shrugged as if indifferent,
but Reiv thought he detected a hint of satisfaction in her
eyes.

He returned to the tent, the knife’s blade
glowing red. Cora took it from him and held the hot metal to the
wound. The blood sizzled with the smell of burning flesh.

“Now. The other one,” Cora said. “It’s
already pushing through the other side. We’ll have to shove it on
through.”

“Shall I roll him onto his side then?”

“That would probably be best.”

Reiv leaned Torin toward him and braced his
chest against the man’s back. It made his skin feel clammy, but
Cora scooted to his side before he could think any more about it.
She pressed the butt of the knife handle against the broken end of
the shaft. The pronged tip blossomed through Torin’s chest, and the
rest of the shaft followed. Cora grabbed hold and slid it out.

Reiv dabbed the blood on Torin’s back, while
Cora tended the exit wound.

“Lean him against me,” she said, “while you
reheat the knife.”

Reiv did as instructed and again returned
with the metal glowing hot. “Hold him,” Cora said, and he took hold
of Torin while she pressed the blade to Torin’s chest.

Torin moaned as the pain roused him. “Stop,”
he said weakly.

Reiv tightened his hold. “Almost done,” he
said. “Almost done.”

“Let me die,” Torin said. “Please, Reiv.
There is nothing left for me.” Then his head lolled against Reiv’s
arm and he said no more.

Reiv’s eyes met Cora’s. “He does not mean
it,” he said.

Cora looked away.

“He is the toughest man I know,” Reiv
insisted. “He would not give up so easily.”

Cora motioned for Reiv to roll Torin onto the
blanket. She blotted the wound at Torin’s back, but said
nothing.

“Cora? Torin will live, will he not?”

“Yes,” she said softly. “Now go reheat the
knife.”

Reiv rose and left the tent, then struggled
to the nearest bush and vomited into the dirt.

Back to ToC

Chapter 15: Wading
In

“
R
eiv…Reiv!”

Reiv felt a hand shaking his shoulder. He
rolled over and sat up, his heart pounding against his breastbone.
“What!” he blurted.

“You were having a nightmare,” Cora said.

Reiv blinked his eyes awake, then scrubbed a
hand through his hair. “Was I?”

“Yes. You were shouting.”

“Shouting?” He yawned and stretched. “I do
not recall.”

Cora eyed him suspiciously.

“What?” Reiv asked with amusement. “Was it
that bad?”

“It seemed so. Who’s Crymm?”

Reiv’s amusement evaporated. “Someone I used
to know.” He turned his focus to Torin. “How is he?”

“Better, but he has a slight fever. Hopefully
it’s only from the wounds, nothing more. I gave him an herbal brew.
That should bring the fever down a bit.”

Reiv rose. “How long have I been asleep?”

“A while. Are you ready to take the next
shift?”

“Yes, but let me tend to another matter
first.”

As Reiv exited through the flap, he realized
the camp was now bustling with activity. There were numerous
campfires scattered about, and tents filled to capacity with the
injured. Many people were gathered on pallets, some sleeping, some
not. Others were rushing in and out of tents, tossing medical waste
onto burn piles and spilling red-tinted water into the sand.

Reiv worked his way behind the tent, intent
on finding a private place to ease his bladder, when he heard Gem
and Nely playing nearby. He finished his business, then stepped
back around the tent and walked toward them. He paused quietly,
watching as they played.

The girls had fashioned dolls from sticks
held together by strands of vine. They were staging them in a
make-believe world of strategically placed stones, mounds of sand,
and other assorted landmarks.

“Quick! Hide in the house!” Gem’s doll
commanded the one held by her sister. “We can’t let the Guard see
us!”

The girls hopped their dolls behind a rock.
“Save me, save me,” Nely’s high pitched voice squealed.

“Do not fear,” Gem replied bravely. “I have a
knife.”

She grabbed another doll and leaned it in
front of the rock. “No one passes through your door without passing
through me first!” she declared.

Gem lifted another doll and moved it toward
the first. Her voice grew deeper. “I am the King, here to kill you
all. You are rubbish and deserve to die!” She snatched the doll at
the pretend doorway and tottered it toward the mock king. “Not if I
kill you first.”

The two dolls scuffled at the command of
Gem’s small fists. The King fell into the dirt. “Now who’s
rubbish,” Gem said as she smashed the other doll into it, beating
it until both were nothing more than shattered twigs.

“Gem,” Reiv said softly. “Is that what
happened?”

Gem rose to face him, her expression a
mixture of surprise and annoyance. “No,” she said. “That’s what I
wanted to happen.”

I understand,” Reiv said.

“No you don’t.”

Reiv sighed. “If you say so, Gem.” He glanced
back at the tent, then smiled at the girls. “Would you like to go
in and visit Torin? I am sure your voices would bring him
cheer.”

Gem twisted her mouth, then asked, “Will he
know we’re there?”

“I do not know, but perhaps he knows more of
what is going on than he lets on.”

“Then I need to tell him something,” Gem
said. “Before he dies.”

“He is not going to die,” Reiv said.

Gem bared her teeth. “You don’t know that.
You don’t know anything!” She spun and ran in the opposite
direction.

“Gem, wait!” Reiv called after her, but she
had vanished into the maze of refugees.

Cora emerged from the tent. “What happened?”
she asked, her eyes trailing after Gem.

Reiv shook his head. “There is no talking to
that child. She is so angry, so…”

“Shall I give it a try?” Cora asked. “Perhaps
she just needs to talk to someone who is not Tearian.”

“I am not Tearian,” Reiv snapped.

Cora laughed. “Oh Reiv, of course you are.
You’re the brother of the King.”

Reiv looked over at Nely who was staring at
him. “Is that why your sister will have nothing to do with me?” he
asked her.

The girl nodded.

“I suppose you will have nothing to do with
me either?” he asked.

Nely stepped toward him. Her eyes sparkled as
she gazed up at him. “
I
like you,” she said.

“Well, at least someone does,” he
muttered.

“Can we go see Torin now?” Nely asked. She
reached for Reiv’s hand.

Reiv gathered her hand in his, then turned to
Cora. “Perhaps you should see about Gem. A little girl should not
be running around camp unsupervised, though I pity any man who
dares cross her.”

Cora smiled. “I’ll see what I can do.”

* * * *

Cora found Gem just outside the perimeter of
the camp, stabbing the dirt with a stick.

“Did you kill it?” Cora asked with
amusement.

“Not yet,” Gem said. “But I will.” She rammed
the stick into the dirt, where it stuck.

Cora leaned down to inspect the imaginary
victim. “Definitely dead,” she said, then turned to Gem. “Are you
finished now?”

Gem scowled. “Yes.”

“I was on my way to the stream for a dip,”
Cora said matter-of-factly. “Would you like to join me?”

Gem shrugged.

“As you wish.” Cora turned and walked away.
Gem hesitated, then followed.

When they reached the stream, Cora led Gem
along its bank. Up and down the shoreline people came and went,
some filling water bladders, others bathing or beating laundry
against the rocks. She headed to a tumble of boulders shaded by an
overhang of leafy branches. The area was bordered by ripples of
sand and gently flowing waters, and would provide a place for
sitting and privacy for bathing. “This should do,” Cora said.

She picked her way along the rocks, then
settled onto a boulder that was half in and half out of the water.
Dipping a toe into the river, she swirled it in a circular motion,
then patted the rock next to her. “Here, Gem. Sit with me.”

Gem climbed over and sat, but her feet did
not reach the water’s surface. She slid down a bit, touching her
toes to it. “It’s cold,” she said, and scooted back up.

“Oh, it’s not so bad.” Cora turned her eyes
to the sky. It was still cloudy, but the rain had stopped and the
sky was growing paler. “If we’re lucky, the sun will be shining
soon; then it will feel warmer when we swim.”

“I don’t know how to swim,” Gem grumbled.

“Would you like to learn?”

Gem thought for a moment. “I guess,” she
finally said. “My brother always wanted to learn to swim. But Torin
wouldn’t teach him.”

“Why not?”

“He said Farris had to be a potter and that
potters didn’t swim.”

Cora smiled. “I see. Well, I would have to
disagree with Torin on that one. Anybody can swim.”

“I think it was because he didn’t want anyone
to know about Farris, so he made up stories so he didn’t have to
take him there.”

“To Meirla you mean?”

“Yes. He didn’t want the people there to
know.”

“Know what?”

“That Farris was his.”

Cora felt her stomach clench. “What do you
mean, his?”

“His son.”

“How do you know this, Gem? Did he tell
you?”

“No. I heard my mum and pada arguing about it
once, and when Torin came yesterday, he said so, too.”

“Torin has a son?” Cora turned her gaze to
the opposite shore.

“Not anymore. He’s dead, so now Torin doesn’t
have one.”

Cora looked at Gem, expecting to see sadness,
but instead she saw only bitterness. “Oh, Gem, I’m so sorry.” Cora
paused, noting the conflict emerging on Gem’s face. “Do you want to
talk about it? Sometimes talking helps when we lose people we
love.”

Gem remained silent.

“How about if I start?” Cora suggested.

Gem lifted her eyes to her. “You lost
someone?”

“My mother and father, and my little sister.
They drowned.”

Gem hugged her knees to her chest, staring at
the swirling waters. “How did they drown?”

“They were very good swimmers, all Shell
Seekers are, but the sea was angry that day and pulled my little
sister far from shore. My mother went in after her, and my father
followed. But the waters took them, and never gave them back.”

“Why didn’t your father save them?”

“He tried, but he couldn’t.”

“Then he didn’t try hard enough,” Gem
said.

“Is that what you think? That people die
because someone didn’t try hard enough to save them?”

“My mum died because Torin didn’t try hard
enough.”

“How can you say that?”

“Because he took me and Nely and let the King
burn up my mother and brother.”

“Why would Torin do such a thing? There must
have been more to it.”

“Farris was dead, and Nannaven, too. But my
mum was alive and she was sick.” Gem’s voice grew angry. “Then the
King came and told the men to burn the tent, but first he said that
Torin could save her or us, and Torin picked us. But he should have
picked Mum.”

“Gem, please listen. The King is the bad one,
not Torin. Torin was put in a terrible position. What else could he
do? If he had chosen your mother, then you and your sister would be
dead. Are you saying you would rather Nely be dead than your
mother?”

“No.”

“So how was Torin’s choice the wrong one?
What would you have done in his place?”

“I wouldn’t have chosen anyone! I would have
killed the King!”

“Well then, why didn’t you?”

Gem’s face reddened with anger. “Because I
didn’t have a knife!” she said.

“Did Torin have a knife?”

“No, but—”

“So how could he kill the King?”

“He should have hit him!”

“Why didn’t he?”

“The soldiers had him and he couldn’t!”

“I see.”

Cora’s sympathies shifted from the child
sitting next to her to the man lying wounded in the tent. For Torin
to have found his boy dead, then to have been forced to choose
between the lives of two little girls and the mother of his son—no
wonder he felt he had nothing left to live for.

“Cora?” Cora felt Gem’s hand on her arm.

“Yes, Gem.”

“Do you like him?”

“Who?”

“Torin.”

“Of course.”

“What about Reiv?”

“I like him, too.” She cocked her head. “Why
do you ask?”

Gem crinkled her nose. “I don’t like
him.”

“Reiv? What possible reason could you have to
dislike him?”

“He’s Tearian.”

Cora shook her head sadly. “Well, I guess
you’d better tell him then.”