by Paul Barrett
Erick nodded, afraid to speak for the moment. Blink seemed in better shape, so he sent an answer to his familiar.
Blink translated. “He said to give him a minute; he wants to make sure he’s empty.” Erick glared at him, and Blink added, “Well, he wasn’t that blunt, but that was the gist of it.”
Elissia stepped over to the wash table and poured water from the pitcher into the copper basin. She grabbed a cloth, dropped it into the water, wrung it out, and returned to Erick, who had crawled to a sitting position against the wall. Realizing the cover had slipped away, and he sat naked in front of Elissia, he grabbed the sweat-drenched blanket and pulled it over his lower body. “I’m going to start wearing a nightshirt,” he growled.
Elissia smiled as she placed the damp cloth against Erick’s warm forehead. “I’ve dreamt some bad dreams before,” she said, “but never any that made me physically sick. Does this happen often?”
Erick shook his head. “I’ve never had one this real before.”
“What was it about?” Elissia asked.
Erick started to tell her but shook his head. “Get Corby. Both of you need to hear it. I have to wash out my mouth. I’ll meet you back here.”
“Why does Corby need to be here?”
“Because he does,” Erick snapped. “Please get him.”
“Okay,” Elissia said, her tone placating. Erick, unable to meet her eyes, stared at the floor until she left the cabin.
After she left, Erick threw on his clothes.
“Do you think it was real?” Blink asked.
“Yes.” Erick pointed to the floor where Blink’s sick lay in a puddle. “It was a vision from either Caros or Denech. Normal dreams don’t do that. Can you clean up for me?”
Blink nodded. Erick left the cabin and walked down the narrow passageway until he reached the galley, which housed large barrels of fresh water. A guard stood at the bulkhead to prevent pilferage of the rations or cargo. He wore a leather vest emblazoned with the twin brown bars and blue wave of the Zakerin navy, a tight-fitting leather skullcap, and a bored expression.
As Erick approached, the man extended his short-hafted spear until he recognized Erick. His bored expression returned. “What do you want?” he asked in a not unfriendly voice.
“I got seasick,” Erick told him. “Could I get some water to rinse out my mouth?”
“Landlubbers. Seasick on calm seas,” the man said, smiling. “Of course you can. Get some cloves, too. They’ll freshen your breath.”
“Thank you.” Erick stepped past the guard and into the galley. A brief search revealed a tapped keg. He grabbed a large clay mug, filled it with water and rinsed his mouth, spitting several times into a nearby swill bucket. As he gargled, he spied the spice pots on a counter. He found the pot marked “cloves” and dug out one of the tiny brown buds. His mother had also used the plant for sweetening the breath. Erick never cared for the taste, but it would be better than the sour tang of bile. He wished the guilt could be so easily chased away.
To forestall the return to his cabin, he walked onto the deck and leaned on the rail, taking in gasps of fresh air as he listened to the splash of the water against the bow. He looked to the sky and studied the realm of Talan. The thousands of stars, Talan’s Diamonds, twinkled fitfully, their light distant and wan next to the brilliant light cast by Talan’s Lantern, the yellow moon the scholars used to chronicle the passing of time. The Lantern was half shuttered and closing, just like in his dream. Its aspect denoted the last half of the month, and its low position heralded the beginning of autumn. For the first time in his life, Erick wondered if he would be around to see the Lantern when it again marked this time of year.
They’re waiting for you, Blink told him after a few minutes.
Sighing, Erick thought, I’ll be there in a moment.
He shuffled toward his cabin. If his nocturnal vision was to be believed--and he did believe it--the people of Draymed had been murdered, and the town put to the torch, all by one man. A man he’d allowed to live. Any who survived the initial slaughter would succumb to the poisoned water, a slow and painful death.
When he’d left Draymed, he hadn’t cared that he would never see the town again, but to know he had allowed so much destruction, no matter how unintentional, left him hollow. As victims of murder, they were assured a place in the Heaven of Caros. That gave him a measure of comfort. But how would Elissia feel about her aunt’s and uncle’s deaths, especially knowing he had indirectly caused it? His relationship with her, so tenuous, seemed in danger of being destroyed.
Corby also concerned him. His parents and friends were all gone. He would be devastated. Erick chanced losing both his friends tonight, but he had no choice. If they were to travel with him, he could not have their journey continue with such a secret between them.
He reached the cabin and found Elissia, Corby, and Blink crowded into the tiny space. Geran stood in the corner.
Erick sat on the floor. Corby looked half asleep, but Erick suspected there would be little rest for any of them tonight.
He related the dream, telling them his vision of the town’s destruction and the visitation of Aunt Beautru’s spirit. He offered no insight into the words spoken by the dead woman since he didn’t know their meaning. By the time Erick finished, tears flowed from his friend’s eyes.
“Is there any chance it was just a dream?” Corby asked.
Erick shook his head. He and Blink had never shared dreams. That they both experienced this told Erick it had to be more.
You’ve forgotten something, Blink thought.
No, I haven’t, Erick thought back in misery. I just haven’t worked up the courage to say it.
Do it now, Blink said. If you wait, it will only get worse.
Erick wanted to scream at Blink to shut up and leave him alone, but only because the familiar was right.
I know I am, Blink told him. I don’t want to be. Sorry.
Erick looked at his teary friends and steeled himself. “The man who killed everyone was one of the mercenaries that attacked us on the road.”
“But they were all dead,” Elissia said.
“No,” Erick said, dropping his head, unable to meet their tearful eyes. “Blink only put them to sleep. He didn’t kill them.”
“But you said-” Corby began. “You lied?”
Erick nodded, still unable to look at them, and tears came to his eyes.
“Excuse me,” Corby said in a choked voice.
Cushions shuffled. From the corner of his eye, Erick watched the scholar’s feet run across the small room. The door opened, and Corby ran out. Elissia followed. As the door slammed shut, Erick closed his eyes, and tears of shame and regret splattered onto the waxed wooden floor, like drops of blood from his soul. He collapsed onto his back. Great Caros, what have I done? Anger blended with his shame and Erick wept as he hadn’t since his parents’ death.
The crying stopped eventually. The tears dried into salty trails that ran down the side of his hairless head. He lay on the floor, staring at nothing, thinking random thoughts about trivial matters, too wrung out to focus on anything significant. Blink sat beside him, offering comfort and silence.
Someone knocked on the door.
“Go away.”
“Can I please come in?” Elissia asked, her voice muffled by the thick door.
Erick sat up and brushed the crusted salt from his eyes. “Yes.”
The door opened, and Elissia stepped inside. Her almond eyes and small nose bore the redness of grief. She walked over and sat on the floor beside him, resting her head against the bed.
“I’m so sorry,” Erick said in a thick voice. “If I had ever thought–”
Elissia put her finger against his lips and shook her head. He sat back. For a long time, they said nothing. Erick wanted to apologize, to explain, but he would wait until Elissia allowed him. Despite the misery of the situation, her presence brought him solace.
Eventually, Elissia spoke. “You know,
the whole time I was there, I wanted to be anywhere else. I couldn’t wait to get away. The happiest day of my life was when I left with you. For the past few days, I’ve hardly thought about Draymed. But now that it’s gone, I’m going to miss it. I’ll even miss my aunt, much as we disagreed.” She looked at Erick’s face. “Why is it that we don’t think about missing people until there’s no possibility of ever seeing them again?”
“But you will see them again,” Erick told her. “Years from now, when you go to stay with Caros in his heaven, your aunt and uncle will be there, just as you remember them. And they’ll tell you how proud they are that you helped me save the world.”
Elissia smiled gently. “Knowing Beatru, she’ll tell us both how we could have done things better.” The smile disappeared. “She warned me you would bring death to the town.”
“But I-” Erick stopped. “I didn’t mean to.”
“I know you didn’t.” She sighed and rested her head against his shoulder. He barely breathed, afraid any movement would make her shy away. “It would be a much happier world if we knew the consequences of our actions before we did them.”
She pulled away, to Erick’s disappointment. “You need to trust us,” she said. “You’re going to a different world now. I know you can’t kill, but now you see it’s sometimes necessary. If you can’t kill them, I can.”
“I don’t want you to have to do it either. Or Corby.”
“But can you see why we might?”
Erick didn’t react for a long time. “Yes, I see.”
“If you know they’re going to heaven, why do you care if we kill them?”
“Because I don’t know they’re going to heaven. Especially men like that. Alakaneth judges, and only he knows. I won’t take the chance of condemning a soul to Hell.” Erick shuddered. “No one should.”
“I will,” Elissia said. “Better them in Hell than me.”
If she knew what I know about Hell, Erick thought, she might not be so cavalier. “You won’t go to Hell.”
Elissia offered one of her crooked smiles. “How do you know? Only Alakaneth judges, remember?”
Erick frowned. He didn’t like the thought of Elissia condemned to such an existence. But it did bring him to another question, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to know the answer. “How many people have you killed?”
“Those men on the road were the first.”
Surprised but reassured, Erick asked, “How could you be so calm about killing?”
“I just told you. I’m not at all calm about dying.”
“What about when I first saw you at the manor? You seemed ready to die.”
“That was different. My only two friends were dead, Beatru seemed to think everything wrong in the world was my fault, and no one in town other than Corby cared for me. At that point, death seemed almost welcome. But that was before I got to know you.”
Erick said nothing, afraid the lump in his throat would choke his words.
“You’re going to have to talk to Corby,” she said. “He lost more than I did and may not be as willing to forgive you.”
“You forgive me?” Erick asked before he could stop himself. Now she would change her mind.
She hesitated a moment before speaking. “Yes. You had no way of knowing any of those men would even go to Draymed, much less destroy-” She stopped and let out a gasp as if she just remembered something.
“What’s wrong?” Erick asked.
“Nothing,” she said, putting her head on his shoulder again. “I just...what happened to Draymed wasn’t your fault.”
Erick didn’t agree, but the important thing was her forgiveness.
Though loathe to leave, he said, “I should go find Corby.”
“Leave it until morning. He’ll need some time to work it out for himself. I’ll talk to him if you want.”
Erick shook his head. “It’s my responsibility.”
“You have to promise me one more thing,” Elissia said. “Never, ever lie again, no matter how painful the truth is. I’ve heard enough lies to last me forever, and I won’t have it from you.”
“I promise,” Erick said. “I see now what happens when I do.”
They didn’t say anything more. Comfortable in each other’s company, they soon slid to the floor and fell asleep, exhausted by the night’s events.
The next day, before his studies, Erick sought out Corby, but the young scholar could not be found. Erick spotted Murrough working the ropes and approached.
“Corby’s in my bunk,” the young sailor said in response to Erick’s question. “But you’d best leave him be.”
“Does he hate me?”
“Hate?” Murrough let out a harsh laugh. “Corby doesn’t have it in him to hate. If I had lost my parents, brother, and a whole town, you can be gods-damned sure I’d be pounding you until some things broke. But Corby’s a gentle soul. Cares for you more than you’d ever accept. Deluded himself into thinking it wasn’t your fault. Says you’re his friend and you had your reasons.” The sailor snorted and spat a gob of phlegm at Erick, forcing him to step back to avoid the disgusting missile. “That’s what I think of your reasons. Corby will show when he’s ready. Now go before I forget my promise and beat you anyway.”
Erick backed away, unnerved by the sailor’s naked anger. Knees weak, he returned to his cabin and tried to study, to no avail. Suddenly craving physical activity, Erick grabbed the three daggers Elissia had gotten for him. He went on deck, to his scarred practice board, and started throwing. He threw and threw, barely noticing the tears that poured or the sweat that built up on his face. None of the sailors bothered him. He threw, not missing once, until his arm could barely move and fatigue overtook him. He threw until Elissia led him to his cabin and he fell into bed, sleeping the afternoon away in exhausted remorse.
The morning of their seventh day at sea, three days after the dream, Erick stood on deck watching the House of Caros rise over the ocean, its fiery glare reaching across the water. The days since the vision had been difficult. Corby had not shown above deck yet, and Erick worried that their fledgling friendship had disappeared.
Although she claimed no ill feelings about Erick’s actions, Elissia seemed changed. She still taught him, and they spoke at meals, but her laughter came less frequently, her glances not as friendly. In some ways, he found it worse than if she had screamed at him, been mad, and then moved on. But he considered himself lucky she even spoke to him.
Erick stared across the water. It was going to be a clear day, much as every day of their voyage had been. One of the sailors on the morning watch noticed stopped for a moment to join Erick in observing the sunrise.
“Always love seein’ that,” the man said, running his hand through a long brown beard attached to a time and sun-weathered face. “Been a right lucky trip, this one.”
“What do you mean?” Erick asked, not taking his eyes off the horizon.
“The dangerous weather don’t start for another two months, but it’s rare we make all seven days without at least a drop of rain.”
“So we’ll reach land today?”
“Aye. Sometime before the next bell.” He turned his grizzled face to the sky, cloudless and quickly turning from deep violet to blue. “And not a drop of rain,” he repeated before wandering off to continue his rounds.
As he stood there watching for the land to make an appearance, soft footsteps approached. He turned to find Corby walking toward him, his clothing rumpled and hair tousled, with no sign of the oil he usually wore in it. Though his face was placid, his eyes seemed glassy and his skin pale and slack, as if he had slept or eaten little in the past days.
He stopped and leaned on the rail next to Erick but had yet to look at him directly. Erick started to speak, but Corby spoke first.
“Murrough told me what he said to you. He shouldn’t have threatened you. When I told him that, he got angry with me, so I’ve lost a friend...a good friend.”
“I’m sorry,” Erick said.
>
“We’ve all lost something,” Corby continued, his voice flat, as if Erick hadn’t spoken. “I have to carry on my father’s search for knowledge. He would want that. Will you help me? Help me learn and remember all we see.”
“Of course,” Erick said. He swallowed the lump in his throat. “I’m-”
Corby held up a hand, and Erick almost expected Corby to press it against his mouth, silencing him as Elissia would. “Don’t apologize. Don’t ever offer contrition for sparing someone’s life. If you wall off your heart, you’re no better than the enemy we’re fighting, are you?”
Erick didn’t know how to answer. Which was worse, killing one person or inadvertently letting two hundred die because you didn’t kill that one? Would Alakaneth consider him a murderer because of his inaction? Should he have risked the battle with Elonsha and killed the men? He grew tired of questions for which he had no answers.
“The worst part,” Corby said, his voice so lifeless it unnerved Erick, “is that as much as I lost, part of me was happy. There were so many people there that bullied and berated me. People I wished dead. I shouldn’t have wished it, but I’m not sorry it happened. I just wish it could have been only them and not the people I loved.” He looked at Erick. “Is that a horrible thing?”
Corby’s dark thoughts disturbed Erick, as did his lack of remorse. But like his cousin, Corby didn’t know the true cost of death. Erick wasn’t about to tell him. “I don’t know.”
“Elissia says it isn’t, but she can have an unforgiving nature.”
“Is she still mad at me?” Erick asked.
“Not at all. I think secretly, she wanted some people dead too. She can say it’s not horrible to feel that way, and we can believe we had nothing to do with it, but wishes have power. They reach Denech’s ears and, if they’re strong enough, he listens. Maybe your actions were the answer to those wishes, and that thought frightens her. It frightens me too.”
Was such a thing possible? Had he been Denech’s instrument of fate to make Corby’s and Elissia’s wishes come true? It seemed illogical, but the logic of gods was incomprehensible to humans. His parents had often told him that. He didn’t like the thought of being little more than a pawn to fate, but he could do nothing about it. And if he had no say, did his decision not to kill matter? The bright, beautiful morning suddenly lost some of its luster.
