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Authors: J. Leigh Bralick
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dizzying pace. Suddenly the rope
snapped. The sand came rushing up at me. I crashed against the
rocky wall and scrabbled at its face, tearing my hands and ripping
two nails before I caught a protruding rock.
The terrible hands swung out toward me, the
plaintive moan rose to a shriek. I took one breath, and pushed
myself away from the wall.
Chapter 6 – Dawn
When I first began to wake, I felt only
quiet darkness, a thick, bodiless calm. Then the shadows began to
recede, and a terrible fluttering brightness burned against my
eyelids. I tried to lift my hands to cover them, but someone
grasped my wrists and gently pressed them back to my sides. I
thought I heard words but could not understand what they said. Then
something moist and cool draped over my eyes, and a spicy soothing
aroma hovered in a cloud over my head. I breathed deeply, letting
the new darkness haze my vision. My head swam, and my body drifted
numbly somewhere between sleep and waking.
“ Merelin.”
I made a noise of protest and turned my
head. The cloth lifted, and I forced my eyes to open. The light
wasn’t so painful now, though everything seemed to bob between
wretched brightness and deepest shadow. I was lying on a coarse
blanket in a sort of cave, low and wide, with pale wind-carven
walls and sandy floor. Yatol crouched next to a small fire, using a
long ladle to stir something in a rough iron pot.
In the light I saw his face marred by a
shallow, broad cut – a new injury. I wondered how he had gotten it.
He had changed his bloodied and torn shirt for a clean one, pale
grey with long sleeves that covered all the wounds I had seen
before. But they were rolled back a little as he stirred, and I
could glimpse the hint of a bandage beneath them.
He stabbed at the pot a few more times, then
lifted out a piece of cloth, wringing it out and shaking it until
it was cool.
“ How do you feel?” he asked
gently, laying the compress back over my eyes.
He held it there a moment, then as he
withdrew his hand his fingertips brushed my cheek. A little flutter
touched my heart. I pushed back the cloth and tried to sit up,
wincing from a whole-body ache and grimacing at the sight of my
bandaged hands.
“ All right,” I said. “Sore,
but all right. What happened?”
He stood without answering, rolling his
sleeves back the rest of the way and going to the mouth of the
cave. For some time he leaned against the wall staring out, and I
could tell from where I lay that it was night.
“ How did you know?” he
asked.
“ Know what?”
“ To jump.” He turned to
glance back at me. “To evade his hand.”
“ I don’t know.” I wondered
why I had – I could have killed myself. My cheeks burned and I
murmured, “I’m sorry. I put you in danger.”
He gave a strange, thin laugh. “It’s not me
you need to worry about putting in danger.”
What is that supposed to mean?
Yatol wandered back into the cave and sat
down against the far wall, drawing up his knees and turning a
curved knife around in his hands. I recognized it from the vision
I’d had of him guarding my tent. That horrible vision. I leaned my
chin on my knees and shuddered.
“ Are you…” I faltered. “Um,
are you okay?”
“ Why?”
I didn’t know how to say it, so I just
gestured dumbly at my own face. “And your arms. They looked
hurt.”
He gave a sort of slanted shake of his head
mixed with a shrug, a gesture somewhere between denial and
affirmation that told me nothing. When he noticed me scowling he
smiled wryly.
“ Don’t worry about
me.”
“ Don’t worry? How am I
supposed to not worry?”
“ Just trust me.”
I stared at him. I wanted to laugh – I was
that confused.
“ How does trusting you have
anything to do with it? I’m supposed to, what, trust you that you
can do just fine getting yourself tort—”
I swallowed the word as it started to leave
my mouth. It had popped into my head as a joke, but suddenly I got
that punched-in-the-gut
snapped. The sand came rushing up at me. I crashed against the
rocky wall and scrabbled at its face, tearing my hands and ripping
two nails before I caught a protruding rock.
The terrible hands swung out toward me, the
plaintive moan rose to a shriek. I took one breath, and pushed
myself away from the wall.
Chapter 6 – Dawn
When I first began to wake, I felt only
quiet darkness, a thick, bodiless calm. Then the shadows began to
recede, and a terrible fluttering brightness burned against my
eyelids. I tried to lift my hands to cover them, but someone
grasped my wrists and gently pressed them back to my sides. I
thought I heard words but could not understand what they said. Then
something moist and cool draped over my eyes, and a spicy soothing
aroma hovered in a cloud over my head. I breathed deeply, letting
the new darkness haze my vision. My head swam, and my body drifted
numbly somewhere between sleep and waking.
“ Merelin.”
I made a noise of protest and turned my
head. The cloth lifted, and I forced my eyes to open. The light
wasn’t so painful now, though everything seemed to bob between
wretched brightness and deepest shadow. I was lying on a coarse
blanket in a sort of cave, low and wide, with pale wind-carven
walls and sandy floor. Yatol crouched next to a small fire, using a
long ladle to stir something in a rough iron pot.
In the light I saw his face marred by a
shallow, broad cut – a new injury. I wondered how he had gotten it.
He had changed his bloodied and torn shirt for a clean one, pale
grey with long sleeves that covered all the wounds I had seen
before. But they were rolled back a little as he stirred, and I
could glimpse the hint of a bandage beneath them.
He stabbed at the pot a few more times, then
lifted out a piece of cloth, wringing it out and shaking it until
it was cool.
“ How do you feel?” he asked
gently, laying the compress back over my eyes.
He held it there a moment, then as he
withdrew his hand his fingertips brushed my cheek. A little flutter
touched my heart. I pushed back the cloth and tried to sit up,
wincing from a whole-body ache and grimacing at the sight of my
bandaged hands.
“ All right,” I said. “Sore,
but all right. What happened?”
He stood without answering, rolling his
sleeves back the rest of the way and going to the mouth of the
cave. For some time he leaned against the wall staring out, and I
could tell from where I lay that it was night.
“ How did you know?” he
asked.
“ Know what?”
“ To jump.” He turned to
glance back at me. “To evade his hand.”
“ I don’t know.” I wondered
why I had – I could have killed myself. My cheeks burned and I
murmured, “I’m sorry. I put you in danger.”
He gave a strange, thin laugh. “It’s not me
you need to worry about putting in danger.”
What is that supposed to mean?
Yatol wandered back into the cave and sat
down against the far wall, drawing up his knees and turning a
curved knife around in his hands. I recognized it from the vision
I’d had of him guarding my tent. That horrible vision. I leaned my
chin on my knees and shuddered.
“ Are you…” I faltered. “Um,
are you okay?”
“ Why?”
I didn’t know how to say it, so I just
gestured dumbly at my own face. “And your arms. They looked
hurt.”
He gave a sort of slanted shake of his head
mixed with a shrug, a gesture somewhere between denial and
affirmation that told me nothing. When he noticed me scowling he
smiled wryly.
“ Don’t worry about
me.”
“ Don’t worry? How am I
supposed to not worry?”
“ Just trust me.”
I stared at him. I wanted to laugh – I was
that confused.
“ How does trusting you have
anything to do with it? I’m supposed to, what, trust you that you
can do just fine getting yourself tort—”
I swallowed the word as it started to leave
my mouth. It had popped into my head as a joke, but suddenly I got
that punched-in-the-gut
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