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PAV
Pav left Kezia’s cottage—who he’d still think of as Daryna from time to time—and ran all the way back to Ionna’s. As he passed the blooming trees, he was slightly dazed when he entered one of the corn fields to Ionna’s home. He’d returned sooner than expected, not even needing to be gone the full two days.
The things he’d seen were strange and should give him enough nightmares to last a lifetime, but oddly enough, he still found Torlarah interesting. For now, he needed to focus on retrieving Anton’s body—alive. He couldn’t believe it.
He prayed his sisters and Ionna weren’t home, so they wouldn’t question him about what he was doing outside with a shovel, unburying his dead—but not really dead—brother.
Once he reached Ionna’s home, his luck was intact—no one was outside. Pav hurried to the shed, hoping he wouldn’t have to answer any questions before the task was complete. Tool after tool—too many to count—decorated the walls and the floor. He shuffled through endless gadgets until he found the shovel hidden underneath several rakes and brooms. They also needed to be organized, apparently.
Pav ran, perspiration pebbling against his skin, to where Anton was buried in front of the Sequoia tree. Without any pause, he slammed the shovel into the dirt, a throb running up the length of his forearm.
“Damn, this dirt is hard,” he muttered to himself as he pulled the shovel back and pushed in again. Even though Pav needed a good nap, he couldn’t let the exhaustion affect him.
“What in all of Kedaf do you think you’re doing? You left notes for your sisters as if you were going to be gone and possibly never return. Do you know how worried Yeva is?” Ionna yelled from behind him, her brow furrowing with worry.
She must think me mad. He felt like it as his hands shook. Yet he struck the shovel into the earth again, fishing out more dirt.
“Look, Ionna, I know how this may appear. And I promise I’ll explain it to you once I get Anton out of here.”
“Pav...” She held up her hands as if she was trying to calm a spooked mare. “Come inside, and I’ll go to the market and fetch your sister.”
There wasn’t time to deal with her questioning.
“I’m going to explain this to you as quickly as I can and once I’m done, you can either help or let me finish.” He hadn’t meant to sound so blunt, but he needed to unbury his brother.
Anton would wake the following morning, and if he wasn’t out of the grave, Kezia would be right—he really would die.
“Go on.” Ionna watched him, her expression becoming serious.
Pav nodded. “I went to Daryna’s, who really is a witch. She brought me to the afterlife, to a place called Torlarah. We found Anton, who was poisoned by Maryska, incidentally also the queen of the place. Anton was all bone—no skin—and was with Nahli and a meerkat. Nahli was the one who gave us the chicken and was then killed sometime after. The meerkat was really the king of Torlarah named Roka. Without going into too much more detail, we defeated Maryska, and Anton was never really dead because someone from Torlarah can’t kill a mortal. The mortal has to knowingly sacrifice themselves.” He took in rapid breaths after spewing out the words because he felt as if he needed all the oxygen in Kedaf at that moment.
“All right...” Ionna said ever so slowly, a deep crease settling in between her brows. “I think we really need to find Yeva.”
“Ionna, please!” he shouted with desperation. “If I’ve never been completely serious in my life, I am right now. If Anton really dies this time, I will never forgive myself, or you, for that matter.”
With a loud sigh, Ionna pressed a few fingers to her right temple. “Let me go and retrieve another shovel, and you can explain it all to me in full detail later. But I know what we’re going to find below the dirt, Pav, and it isn’t going to be pretty.” She still didn’t believe him, thinking him delusional, but at least she was trying to understand.
Ionna returned as Pav lifted out more dirt to his growing pile. She pushed the shovel in, helping to speed up the process.
“Is Tasha not here?” he asked, wiping a hand across his sweaty brow.
“No, she’s at Mrs. Evanko’s.”
“So, how was that goat stew I made?” His stomach twitched at the thought of food, but that would have to wait too.
“Fabulous, but are we going to casually talk as if we aren’t digging up a dead body?”
Pav tilted his head side to side. “I think it’s fine, since he isn’t dead.”
“Are you sure you want to keep going?” She tossed a pile of dark granules over her shoulder.
“Haven’t you ever believed in miracles, Ionna?”
“I don’t know. I suppose?”
“Then let’s just keep going.”
After digging for what seemed like his entire lifespan, Pav ceased shoveling and stepped down into the grave to continue.
Using both hands, Pav dug like an animal making a hole to burrow in, until a flash of Anton appeared. He wiped the dirt away from his brother’s face. Even though Roka had explained to him that Anton would look the same as the day he was buried, Pav still had images pass through his mind of his brother’s body in a decomposed state with half the skin on his face missing. But Roka had spoken the truth—Anton was whole.
“Pav!” Ionna gasped, covering her mouth as she peered at Anton’s face. “You were right! He wouldn’t look like this if he were really dead.” She focused her attention on Pav. “You said he will wake in the morning? What do we tell your sisters until then? I’m not sure if we should get their hopes up just yet.”
“I told you so.” He smiled. “But I think it would be best to tell them beforehand, since I’m going to put him in my bed.”
Ionna leaned on her shovel as though in thought. “This is... I don’t even know how to describe it. I’m sorry for not believing you, though. I’ve just met so many people who have been in denial over death and have done erratic things because of it.”
“I understand. It’s a hard thing to believe.”
In the village, he’d come across townfolk before who weren’t able to handle loss. At the market, he’d met a woman who would constantly speak about her infant when she came to Yeva’s booth. Pav had told her to bring the babe by one day, and she’d agreed yet still always came alone. Later, he’d found out her infant had died four years before. Out of all the circumstances he’d known of, that had been one of the worst.
Ionna hopped into the hole and helped remove the dirt from Anton’s legs. “This is going to be the hard part, getting him out of here,” she grunted.
Anton was less muscular than Pav, so he could lift him on his back once his brother was on the ground above. “Go ahead and get out. When I push him up, try and roll him to the grass.”
“Easier said than done.”
Ionna was right about that. It took him about twenty attempts to haul up Anton’s dead-weighted body. Groaning, Pav shoved his brother as hard as he could, praying Ionna would be able to roll him out the first time.
She did.
“Thank the stars, the sun, and the moon,” he said, pulling his own sweat-soaked body out of the empty grave. “And the clouds shaped as animals.”
Leaving Pav alone with Anton for a moment, Ionna fetched a large pail of water. Together they stripped off Anton’s tunic and pants to clean him as best they could before carrying him inside.
As Pav held Anton under his shoulders and Ionna had his legs—because she refused to let him do this by himself—they gently laid his body on the bed to rest.
“What now?” she asked. Her dirty fingers rested against her cheeks, while she stared down at Anton.
“Now, we wait.”
