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Authors: Robin W Bailey
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closer, wide-eyed. "Don't leave me," he begged. "Please, don't leave me alone!"
"I'm right here," Drushen assured him. The old man crawled onto the bed and curled his body protectively around Innowen. "I'll always be here. I'll always take care of you." Weeping silent tears, he kissed the boy's cheek and brushed a hand over Innowen's hair.
Minarik and Taelyn stood uncertainly at the foot of the bed, casting troubled looks at each other, muttering words that Innowen didn't understand. He didn't care. He shivered against Drushen and stared at the window.
The beautiful sun sat perched on the sill, and he could hear it laughing at him.
Chapter 3
Innowen stayed in bed all day. Drushen brought him food, but he ate little. Minarik came to visit and sat with him, but he was clearly puzzled by Innowen's unexplained paralysis and sullen silence. Taelyn hovered around like a worried mother. Innowen refused to talk to any of them. He wanted only to be left alone, and when he was alone he cried slow, soundless tears and rubbed his unfeeling legs.
Beyond the open window, the sky segued from sweet autumn blue to somber twilight. A quiet wind blew into the room, touching him with the cool softness of a ghost's breath. He bit his lip and turned his face to the pillow. Drushen entered and worriedly brushed a hand along Innowen's cheek. When Innowen didn't respond, the old man lit a candle, set it on a bedside table, and left. Outside, darkness inundated the world.
With a sob, the first sound he had made all day, Innowen clutched his coverlet and drew himself into a ball.
A moment later, with a mingled sense of shock and excitement, he opened his eyes hesitantly and looked at his knees between his arms. He drew a sharp breath, then pressed his lips together, his tongue clenched between his teeth. His heart pounded. He lay utterly still, afraid to move, afraid it was only a dream, and in that moment he prayed to every god he knew. He straightened his right leg, sliding it slowly upon the smooth sheets, and knew he was not dreaming. He straightened the other. Carefully, he sat up. The soles of his feet touched the carpet. The sensation of the cool, plush weave on his skin reassured him, and he wiggled his toes experimentally. Every muscle in his body tensed as he pushed himself off the bed and stood erect. He squeezed his eyes shut, expecting to fall, and peeled them open when his limbs proved themselves.
He moved cautiously toward the window, shuffling his feet, fearing to lift them too high. Something beyond the window called him. What was it? He leaned his hands on the sill and breathed deeply. Once more, the wind came to him out of the darkness like a chill, invisible serpent that twined over every part of his naked body. He felt it crawl over his face and chest, over his legs. He was alive again!
A gasp and a clatter sounded from behind him. He turned. Drushen stared, ashen-faced, his jaw open. At his feet, a silver tray lay turned upside-down on the carpet. A few scraps of meat showed under the edge, and a cracked goblet rocked beside it in a spreading pool of water. His guardian took two steps toward him, then stopped uncertainly, staring with fear-widened eyes.
"It's the night," Innowen said with barely controlled awe. He turned from Drushen and gazed past the sill again, out into the unknowable dark. No star burned in the heavens, no moon. There was only the void. "I don't think the Witch knows. But her god does."
"What are you talking about?" Drushen whispered. Fear thickened the old man's voice, arid Innowen felt the distance between them like a wall. "What evil—"
Innowen cut him off. "It's not evil, Drushen." He hugged himself as the wind fluttered over him. "It's the night. I understand now. The daytime is my enemy. Sunlight steals my legs from me. It makes them useless. But the nighttime is mine. I can walk from sundown until dawn. That is the gift of the Witch's god."
The carpet rustled as
"I'm right here," Drushen assured him. The old man crawled onto the bed and curled his body protectively around Innowen. "I'll always be here. I'll always take care of you." Weeping silent tears, he kissed the boy's cheek and brushed a hand over Innowen's hair.
Minarik and Taelyn stood uncertainly at the foot of the bed, casting troubled looks at each other, muttering words that Innowen didn't understand. He didn't care. He shivered against Drushen and stared at the window.
The beautiful sun sat perched on the sill, and he could hear it laughing at him.
Chapter 3
Innowen stayed in bed all day. Drushen brought him food, but he ate little. Minarik came to visit and sat with him, but he was clearly puzzled by Innowen's unexplained paralysis and sullen silence. Taelyn hovered around like a worried mother. Innowen refused to talk to any of them. He wanted only to be left alone, and when he was alone he cried slow, soundless tears and rubbed his unfeeling legs.
Beyond the open window, the sky segued from sweet autumn blue to somber twilight. A quiet wind blew into the room, touching him with the cool softness of a ghost's breath. He bit his lip and turned his face to the pillow. Drushen entered and worriedly brushed a hand along Innowen's cheek. When Innowen didn't respond, the old man lit a candle, set it on a bedside table, and left. Outside, darkness inundated the world.
With a sob, the first sound he had made all day, Innowen clutched his coverlet and drew himself into a ball.
A moment later, with a mingled sense of shock and excitement, he opened his eyes hesitantly and looked at his knees between his arms. He drew a sharp breath, then pressed his lips together, his tongue clenched between his teeth. His heart pounded. He lay utterly still, afraid to move, afraid it was only a dream, and in that moment he prayed to every god he knew. He straightened his right leg, sliding it slowly upon the smooth sheets, and knew he was not dreaming. He straightened the other. Carefully, he sat up. The soles of his feet touched the carpet. The sensation of the cool, plush weave on his skin reassured him, and he wiggled his toes experimentally. Every muscle in his body tensed as he pushed himself off the bed and stood erect. He squeezed his eyes shut, expecting to fall, and peeled them open when his limbs proved themselves.
He moved cautiously toward the window, shuffling his feet, fearing to lift them too high. Something beyond the window called him. What was it? He leaned his hands on the sill and breathed deeply. Once more, the wind came to him out of the darkness like a chill, invisible serpent that twined over every part of his naked body. He felt it crawl over his face and chest, over his legs. He was alive again!
A gasp and a clatter sounded from behind him. He turned. Drushen stared, ashen-faced, his jaw open. At his feet, a silver tray lay turned upside-down on the carpet. A few scraps of meat showed under the edge, and a cracked goblet rocked beside it in a spreading pool of water. His guardian took two steps toward him, then stopped uncertainly, staring with fear-widened eyes.
"It's the night," Innowen said with barely controlled awe. He turned from Drushen and gazed past the sill again, out into the unknowable dark. No star burned in the heavens, no moon. There was only the void. "I don't think the Witch knows. But her god does."
"What are you talking about?" Drushen whispered. Fear thickened the old man's voice, arid Innowen felt the distance between them like a wall. "What evil—"
Innowen cut him off. "It's not evil, Drushen." He hugged himself as the wind fluttered over him. "It's the night. I understand now. The daytime is my enemy. Sunlight steals my legs from me. It makes them useless. But the nighttime is mine. I can walk from sundown until dawn. That is the gift of the Witch's god."
The carpet rustled as
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