Chapter Eleven

 

 

He saw them again. He had been haunted by the sight of them for years, but this time they were not broken, were not staged in that single, terrible memory which had, to this point, managed to override the years of joy which had come before it. That wretched moment which had followed him on his path, a beast dogging his footsteps, one which he could always see in the distance on waking, and one which, when he slept, curled up close to him, pulling him into a cold embrace and bringing with its touch nightmares beyond counting.

But this time, he did not see them dead. They were alive and well. They were happy. She crouched before the small hearth of their home and the blaze within it rocking the baby, their son. She sang a lullaby, softly, for it was not for show but for the boy she held, him and him alone. As Tarex walked inside, she heard his footsteps and turned, giving him a small smile—the one she saved for him and no one else—and he only stood, watching them. It was a brief moment in time, one he had forgotten, one which had been buried for years under his own pain, his own hate, and that, somehow, recent events had uncovered like some wanderer in the distant future uncovering the treasures of the past.

He did not remember where he had been that day, what had taken him out, but he did remember that he’d meant to leave again, soon, though on what errand he could not have said. He had come home only long enough to get some supplies, that much he remembered. He wanted to tell himself standing in the doorway to stay, to appreciate that moment, to stretch it out as long as he might, for whatever waited outside was not, could not be as important, as vital, as what he would leave behind. But the past was immutable, an unchanging time which, while once a current like that of a river, has since grown cold and hard as stone.

His past self moved to the table where she had set out a bag full of the items he would need—she was always thoughtful, in that way and in so many others—and he grabbed it. He turned back then, only for a moment, and he was struck with the sweet sound of her voice. Another thing he had forgotten, another treasure which had been buried. A voice that was beautiful on its own but all the more beautiful because he loved the owner of it and she, for reasons he did not nor never had understood, loved him.

Then his past self was moving again, walking toward the door, turning his back on all that really mattered, on all that he would lose, though he knew it not. He was forced to go with him, a visitor in this place, this time, but one which could say none of the things he wanted to, could do none of the things he needed to.

Then they were at the door and when it opened, what lay beyond was only a foggy haze, a time not important enough to remember chosen over a time he wished never to forget. He stepped through the door, and his eyes opened.

Tarex woke with a gasp, jerking up to a sitting position. It was dark. He could see nothing, but he heard the sounds of breathing beside him. Was it the nightlings? No, it could not be them, for the beasts were not patient when the blood they sought was so near They would have killed him long before now, while he slept. He had thought, when losing consciousness, that he would awaken in the Keeper’s Fields, had been certain of it. Yet, he lived, he breathed, and something else breathed in the darkness near him.

He groped around blindly in the dark, searching for his weapon. His questing fingers felt nothing except hard stone and dirt. A blanket was draped over him like a funeral shroud. How, though? He had been far too gone to cover himself before he’d passed out. Sonya. It could only have been Sonya. Thoughts of the girl sent a rush of panic through him.

“Sonya?” he asked, his voice sounding harsh and scared in the stillness. “Are you there?”

There was a muzzled, mewing sound beside him, and he was sure that it was one of the creatures come for him at last. He had no idea what had taken them so long, nor why they had waited, but it seemed the end was upon him. Then the creature spoke, but it was not in the growling, guttural sounds of one of the nightlings. Instead, it was in the sleepy, soft sounds of a little girl. “Tarex? You’re awake?”

His hammering heart finally began to slow as he realized they were both alive, at least for the moment. “Sonya? What happened? How do we yet live?”

There were the sounds of scraping beside him, the rustling of cloth, and a moment later light bloomed in the darkness. Tarex blinked at the brightness of it, shielding his eyes. In the orange glow of the lantern, he saw that Sonya was covered in dust, and her hand where it gripped the lantern was scraped and rubbed raw. But she was alive. The gods could be cruel, Tarex decided, as people could, but also like people, they could be more than that.

“Sorry,” the girl said sheepishly, “for the dark, I mean. I thought it would be best to put out the lantern…you know, in case we needed it.”

That brought back a memory of the lantern light fading as the last of its oil ran out, the memory of the creatures crowding the cave opening, waiting for it to fail. “I…I do not understand,” he said. “The creatures…”

“Are gone now,” she said with obvious relief. “The sun came and they left.”

“Yes,” he said slowly, “but day was some hours away yet, was it not?”

She nodded slowly, swallowing hard as she relived what were obviously terrifying memories. “Yes. When you…when you passed out, I grabbed the lantern and dragged you to the back of the cave. You’re heavy, by the way. Anyway, I found a tunnel, a small one. I dragged you through it. Then I found that rock.” She paused, gesturing at a massive rock which only became visible to Tarex as she held up the lantern. “I blocked the entrance with it,” she said, almost guilty. “It was heavy too.”

Gods, but I bet it was, Tarex thought. Rock, Sonya had called it, but boulder would have been more accurate. It was about four-feet-high and nearly the same width. How the little girl had managed to lever it in front of the opening he couldn’t have guessed. He doubted even he could have done as much. He shook his head in wonder. “You saved my life. Again. Sonya, you truly are amazing.”

She grinned at that, blushing and pleased, then she sobered. “I don’t know if we’ll be able to get out again, though. And anyway…how are you feeling?”

Tarex considered that, taking stock of his wound and his body which had so recently failed him. The wound still hurt, and he felt weak, but he was nowhere near as bad off as he had been. “Better,” he said surprised. “A lot better.”

“Good,” she said. “I’m glad.”

Tarex frowned thoughtfully. He’d been wounded before, of course, and had wounded enough men to know the severity of the wound he’d taken. He had not expected to recover at all, especially considering the amount of time he’d traveled without it being seen to and, when it finally was, the one ministering to it had only been a young girl without any knowledge of the healing arts. Certainly, he would have expected to be incapacitated for days, and that at the very least. He wasn’t though, and when he tried gingerly to rise to a crouch—the roof of the cavern in which they had taken refuge was not high enough to allow him to stand to his full height—he was able to do so without much difficulty.

“You are a wonder,” he said to the girl, reminding himself of an old lesson his tutors had taught him long ago, one he had forgotten. There are many forms of strength. Great storms and heaving waves have power, certainly, but so, too, does the gently flowing river which, given time enough, might change the face of the world forever.

It had been one of those lessons he’d accepted without understanding, even before he had lost his way, but now he was struck by just how true it was. The young girl had saved him twice in as many days, quite likely more, and he, with all his skill and talent, had been nothing but a burden to her.

“What will we do now?” Sonya asked, pulling him from his thoughts.

In answer, Tarex moved to the boulder and tried to shift it only to realize he had underestimated its weight. He might have moved it the slightest amount, but while his recovery was miraculous it was not complete, and he still felt weak. Sonya came to stand beside him, and with the two of them straining against it, they were finally able to lever the boulder out of the way.

The gloom was pierced by the morning sun, a sun that Tarex had never thought to see again, and he smiled at the girl who was also grinning. “Come,” he said, “let us see what the morning has brought.”

They emerged into the sunlit forest like prisoners who had been marked for execution then given an unexpected pardon, shielding their eyes from the brightness of the day as they blinked around them. Birds chirped in the trees, squirrels skittered across the great limbs, and the sun felt warm and kind on Tarex’s face. Looking around, he found it difficult to reconcile this vision with the dark, seemingly malevolent forest through which they had journeyed the night before. Then, every shadow had seemed to be some creature lying in wait to strike, and the long limbs of the trees had seemed to be reaching out to snatch them up.

The sky was bright and blue and clear where he could glimpse it through the leafy canopy. He held his hands out to his sides for a moment, glorying in the feel of the sun upon his face, and the slight breeze on his skin. Yet all of these sensations paled to the feeling that overcame him as the girl took his hand in her small one.

“We will leave this place,” he said, finally, unable to hide his reluctance. “The Darkness comes, young one, a Darkness which I have done no small part to help. I would rectify that, if I could.”

“Where will we go?”

He turned to her and smiled. “My choices have not proven wise in the past. As my protector, I think it only right that you should choose. You lead, and I will follow.”

The girl’s eyes went wide at that, and she swallowed hard. “You mean…you want me to decide?”

Tarex nodded. “I do, Sonya.”

She fidgeted, thinking it over, then gave him another smile. “I want to see Alesh again. And Katherine and Darl, Marta and Rion and all the others.”

Their destination was a city surrounded by an army of evil men and women who would take pleasure in killing them both, a city full of people who would be set to kill Tarex for all that he had done. He nodded, smiling. “Very well. Let us go, then.”