DECKER

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

A thin sheet of ice and snow concealed the stream that ambled past their home. The covered water made a different sound, but it was still disturbingly audible. Each of the splashes seemed to bounce between the valley walls, overlapping and endless. To Decker, the unrelenting trickle served as stark reminder that his mother’s condition was as perpetual as water’s downward flow.

No matter how cold the winters had been in years past, the stream had never fully frozen, making it even more valuable to their family and irritating to Decker. “The Mountain cries for your mother, and his tears cannot be frozen,” his father had told him, but during his life Decker had seen little evidence of the three gods his father so revered.

Having already fed his mother her supper, Decker sat beside her in his father’s chair. She had fallen silent from her affliction prior to him forming memories of her. All Decker knew was what his father and brother had told him, and all they spoke of was her strength of spirit and her wisdom. He’d gotten better at not allowing his anger to take while visiting her. It was a cruel thing to have so strong a mother and yet be completely without her guidance or acknowledgment. And it was often that Decker wondered, with resentment difficult to repress, that perhaps if she had truly been a mother to him, he might have inherited more of those qualities.

I have made the gravest error a brother can make, Mother. Should Titon’s condition not improve, I do not know what I will do.

He did not speak to her with words, the way his father did. He looked at his mother, her long white hair shining with pearl-like luster. To him she looked nothing like a wolf. To him she always seemed some sort of sorceress—from a distant land where magic was plentiful and wyverns roamed the skies. His brother had spoken to him of the more colorful stories he had read, of knights and mages, lightning and fireballs, hydras and dragons. Though he tried to convince Decker, straight faced, that all he told was truth, that such places did exist, Titon would eventually crack a smile, allowing the two to laugh at the notion. In spite of that, Decker still held on to the belief that his mother could be something more, if only to assuage the guilt he felt for only speaking to her with his thoughts. His father encouraged both him and his brother to speak aloud to her, regardless of her condition, but Decker could not. The embarrassment of hearing his own words was too great.

Decker gnashed his teeth and slammed his fist onto the chair’s solitary arm. “Why did I not simply let him beat me?” he raged. The thought had not even crossed his mind when Titon had attacked him. Decker had had no chance to think rationally; he’d merely defended himself and with all the restraint he could muster.

Had Titon expected me to let him win? The prospect made the hurt worse, and it was not outside the realm of possibility. He’d been an advocate of his brother’s leadership the entire trip, and Titon had responded with begrudging looks. Perhaps it had all been a ploy by his smarter brother to fool the men into believing the fight was justified, despite the lack of precedent. Had Titon merely been too embarrassed to explicitly plan it with him? Or did Titon assume that Decker had anticipated it as a means to finally solidify his right to lead? What kind of fool am I to not have seen it? And now he will die for my idiocy and aggression.

Decker remembered where he was, and who sat beside him. I am sorry, Mother. Titon will recover, and Father will return, as I have promised. It took all his self-control to prevent his thoughts from wandering toward the outcomes he felt were far more probable.

The two sat in silence as the Dawnstar hid itself behind the mountains. From the stories Decker had heard, she always loved the dawnlight, and there was no shortage of its rays here, in spite of the cold climate. Even in her current condition, she seemed to soak them in, their light making her hair shimmer and her skin glow with youth.

A gentle rapping sounded from the door. They arrive early, thought Decker, not expecting Ulfor’s girls for yet another hour. He kissed his mother on the head, said his silent goodbye, and went to the door.

The figure that greeted him was neither of Ulfor’s girls, but it was familiar nonetheless—he had studied it from afar and often. The tight vest Kilandra normally wore had been replaced by a simple fur shawl draped across her shoulders, and Decker could not help but notice the flesh of her breasts, which not only still showed, but was just as enticing unaided by the support of her usual garment. With some difficulty, he forced his gaze upward, meeting her eyes and finding them as warm and welcoming as the rest of her.

“You must be freezing,” Decker said, immediately regretting the clumsy nature of his greeting.

Kilandra laughed politely, putting him at ease. “My mother taught me that to walk amidst the frost with bare skin helps to retain one’s youth.”

It must be true, he thought, unable to find words with which to respond, too busy wondering how it was that her skin did not rise to bumps from the cold.

“May I come in? Or would you wish to take a walk with me?” Kilandra twisted her body toward the distance, as if anticipating his answer, if not implying what it should be. In any case, he could not bring a woman such as her into his home, not with his mother present—a mother he believed could read his thoughts.

“We’ll walk,” he said. Decker knew the girls would let themselves in if he did not answer the door, and there would be no harm in him leaving a bit early.

Kilandra slipped her arm under his as they started out, surprising him more by how fragile it felt than by the action itself. The touch from a beautiful woman seemed unfamiliar to him and sent a burning warmth through his body. Not knowing whether her contact was that of mere friendship or the pursuit of more only increased the sensation. Decker had bedded girls from his clan before, but they had been blushing youths. The ease of which he gained their affection lessened the thrill, as if his success had been a forgone conclusion. And the Dogmen women he had taken had been exhilarating, but when the rush of conquest had gone, he was left with the sight of their imperfections, nearly sapping any gratification. Kilandra had none of these shortcomings. She was composed, she was proud, she was statuesque, and she was claimed—by one of the most powerful men in their clan, no less.

Decker peered around to see who may be watching them. Keethro is a wolf of a man and deadly with an axe, he reminded himself, unable to shake the feeling that at any moment some cold blade would bite into the length of his spine. It made him shiver and was already beginning to ruin what should have been a rather enjoyable outing.

“It would appear as if we are both cold,” she said. Her voice was like winter-chilled honey, melting slowly to reveal its sweetness. She moved her arm to his waist, pulling herself close to him. With his arm heavy bent at the elbow, as to not encircle her, he clasped his hand around her upper arm, tantalizingly close to her breast. “He will not be returning… My husband.”

Decker was grateful that she did not speak his name. “My father will assuredly return. What makes you say such a thing about…him?” Decker had no wish to speak the name either.

“We are no longer one, he and I. It has been that way for some time now. He was not the man I once thought he was.”

Decker tried to make sense of what he was hearing, continuing to place one foot after the other, crunching the snow with a deliberately shortened stride to stay in step with her. Too preoccupied with the implications of Keethro being forever gone, he gave no second thought to how Keethro and Kilandra had managed to keep such a secret hidden from the gossiping girls of their clan. It was as if Kilandra said exactly what he wished to hear, and he welcomed the words. He dug his thumbnail into his index finger and smiled at what the pain told him. She is unclaimed and in need of someone to protect her.

“Your father may return, that is true, but he will return alone. Of this I am sure. And we must accept that it may be a near eternity before that can happen. How far must one travel to find what he seeks? To lands so distant that none of our people have ever gone and returned to speak of them.”

“It may be a very long time, but he will return. And not before he has acquired the remedies he seeks.” Decker heard his unshakable pride, and thought it justified.

“Yes, no doubt he will.” Kilandra kept her eyes forward as she spoke, not looking at Decker, though he glanced at her often. “We will be on our own until then. The elders are wise, but too weak to lead. They have long warned of our need to unite and move south, a thing I also worry is true, yet a new year comes, and we remain divided. I fear we are without the leadership to accomplish such a thing.”

“We have just led the greatest of raids upon the Dogmen. You have no reason to fear for your wellbeing.” Kilandra did not seem impressed, perhaps because none of her family had been involved in the raid. “I will see to it myself that both you and your young and beautiful daughter are taken care of.”

Kilandra tensed at his description of Red. Decker understood the implication, and after a moment of regret, he realized having said so was no blunder at all. Decker was not a fool, nor was he without weaponry when it came to seduction—she had only temporarily disarmed him. He would have to tread carefully though, as he could not expect the tricks that worked on susceptible girls to have the same effects on this more cunning prey.

“I am truly flattered and appreciate your offer. But do you believe that you will be able to continue to launch such successful campaigns without the aid of your brother? How long will it be before the Dogmen poison those lands too, and move yet farther south?”

The mention of his brother brought back all of Decker’s anguish and worry. He had looked in on Titon earlier that day, and his condition was unimproved. He still drew breath but was not truly alive. Titon had become like their mother in a sense, but whereas their mother could swallow food and kept her eyes open when awake, albeit gazing blankly into some unseen distance, Titon did none of those things. He would not live for long, and the most they could do to nourish him was sit him up and put honeyed water in his mouth, very little of which seemed to make it down. Even if Titon did survive long enough to awaken, the clan’s healers spoke of others who had risen from such states who were never the same. If I have beaten my brother, the keenest man I have ever known, to the point of becoming simple… The thought gave Decker such a profound disgust with himself that he nearly heaved.

“You must not blame yourself.” Her words were both stern and soothing. “We all saw what happened, and it was no fault of your own.”

He started, wondering how she had read his thoughts, but soon realized they must be plastered upon his face. With some effort, he managed to soften his look of self-reproach.

“He gave you no choice. Please…” She slowed her pace and turned to Decker. “You must be strong, if not for yourself, for the rest of us. We need you.” Her forlorn expression pleaded with him for comfort, and her lips pleaded with him for contact. But he still pictured Titon’s helpless face as he lay on the ground, mouth open, staring into nothingness.

“Strength is not what I lack.”

“Then you will lead us? You will unite us?” She asked as if expecting him to deny her this most imperative request.

I have failed too many. I will not fail this one. It seemed her wheedling was all he needed to forge an unbreakable resolve. “I will unite our clans, and I will lead them south where we will take lands so rich you will never be cold or hungry.”

She smiled softly and returned to his side where they continued their walk. Decker’s thoughts returned to gentler things such as the sway of her hips. His arm was around the pronounced curve of her lower back now, and with his hand wrapped around her waist, he could feel her sensuous motion.

“Would you come inside and help me to start a fire? Red is staying with a friend, and it looks as though she has forgotten to put more wood on before she left.”

Decker had not noticed they had been walking to her home, but he could not think of a more welcome destination. “I’d be happy to help,” he said, trying his best to hide his yearning.

“I have a torch and coat you can borrow on your way back,” she said, crushing Decker with the sincerity in her voice. She sounded as if there were no other alternative, and Decker chided himself for believing that there may have been. But as Kilandra moved to go inside, she squeezed herself unnecessarily close between him and the door, brushing against the front of his hips.

A more cunning prey, he reminded himself, his hope renewed.