by TJ Muir
He took out one of his spare shirts and pulled it on. He felt stiff, as though he had been knocked about, and a bit light headed. He straightened the shirt, pulling it down. His hand came away wet. Strange.
While Kai tended to Destryn’s arm, Jedda walked up to where the horses were. Destryn’s horse lead the other three, reins trailing. “Easy boy,” Jedda coaxed, using a low voice to soothe the spooked horse. He realized he was still holding onto his bundled shirt, clutched against his chest with one hand.
Ashai pushed around the others, coming up to Jedda, eyes wide, and letting out the occasional snort. Jedda didn’t move, letting Ashai come up to him, sniff him and the air all around, before putting his nose out carefully.
Jedda put his hand out, palm open. Ashai slowly lowered his nose into Jedda’s hand.
“Sshhh. Easy there. Good boy,” Jedda purred softly, reassuring and soothing. He slowly took hold of the bridle and continued to soothe and calm Ashai. He led the horse back towards the plaza, and the others followed close behind. He brought them over to where Kai was finishing the wrap on his cousin’s arm.
Destryn was able to get hold of his horse, and Kai’s settled down a bit as well. The fourth horse, Kirrin’s, huddled close by Destryn’s, following the herd leader.
Jedda stood there, feeling lost and helpless. His mind was racing, looking for the right thing to say, that would make things better. Something that would show him, show them, that he was not a danger. He wanted something to tell him it was alright to return with them.
But it wasn’t going to happen. The gods were not on his side, not this night. Or maybe they never had been. He didn’t want to speak the words. Didn’t want to hear what he knew Destryn would say.
Destryn looked up at him. His lips moved, but to Jedda the words sounded strange and distant, as if coming to him from far away. Then Destryn reached for the bundle. He wanted to take Kirrin away from him. Jedda jerked backward as Destryn tried to get hold of him.
“No. We can’t just leave him here. Let go. Let go!” Jedda cried, trying to defend what was left of Kirrin. He owed his friend that much.
“Stop!” Destryn yelled. Shaking Jedda. “You’re hurt. Let us help you.”
Why was Destryn trying to steal Kirrin from him? And then everything faded and went black.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Everything around Jedda felt thick and dense. His thoughts kept slipping away no matter how hard he tried to grasp hold of them. At last he gave up, allowing himself to sink back toward the darkness. He slowly became aware of sounds, far away.
Voices. More than one person. But he couldn’t make out the words. He thought it was another trick-- something to lure him back down, further into the blackness. But they grew clearer, even though he couldn’t make out the meaning.
He stayed very still, pretending not to listen, not to reach for them-- lest they slide away. Words, sounds-- even if he couldn’t make out the meaning, were better than the nothingness surrounding him. The voices came closer, then drifted away. A while later, they returned. This time they stayed longer.
Then he heard words he could understand. They didn’t entirely make sense, but he understood them. That gave him a surge of hope and a renewed energy. He struggled towards the voices. He wanted to scream, ‘I’m here.’... but couldn’t make any sound.
“He just moved.”
“Easy, son. You’re safe.” Another voice said, sounding closer. “You’ve had a shock. But you’re safe now.”
Jedda didn’t know what the voice was saying. A shock? Safe? He felt a hand touch his arm, and then his forehead.
“Fever?”
“No. It has broken.”
“That is good.”
“Jedda,” the first voice called him. “Can you open your eyes?”
It took a bit of effort, but Jedda managed to open his eyes. The room was dimly lit. Room? He closed his eyes tight, trying to remember. Where was he, and how had he gotten there? He didn’t think he recognized either of the voices. The faces were dim blurry shapes that gave him no indications as to whom they belonged.
He tried to lick his lips, his mouth felt dry and thick. A hand reached under his head and brought a cup to his lips. Water. He tried to swallow but ended up in a coughing fit. That made everything spin for a moment. The hand waited. The cup returned. This time he took the tiniest bit, held it in his mouth. Better. The hand went away. Then he felt a cool cloth wiping his face.
He tried to watch through half-opened eyes. The room seemed less dim now, but he was still pretty sure that either it was night, or any windows were covered.
When he finally opened his eyes fully and brought things into better focus, he recognized the robes of two Beddo priests. He must be at the temple. He sniffed, smelled a hint of the familiar incense. Definitely Beddo. It was unique, subtle but unmistakable.
“What happened? How did I get here?” he asked. At least he thought that was what he asked. He wasn’t sure if his words were coming out clearly though. Talking hurt his throat and made him cough.
“We were hoping you might be able to tell us that,” Manu said. “Young Aldo found you in the road, bleeding and unconscious.”
Manu stepped forward. “We’ve taken good care of you. I told them you were the man I had met before.” Aldo leaned closer. “I stayed with you the whole time.”
The whole time. How long had he been out? Or sick? “How long?” Jedda asked, voice hoarse and raspy. He coughed again. Aldo brought the cup back, held Jedda’s head while he offered him a sip.
“A week,” Aldo said, looking back at the older priest.
“Go fetch some tea for our guest,” he said.
When Aldo had left, the older man pulled a chair up beside Jedda’s bed. “You had a knife wound.” He put a hand on Jedda’s side. “Here. It wasn’t deep, but there may have been poison on the blade. The wound and the poison were not difficult to deal with. You also suffered from an overuse of magic. For that, there was little to do but wait while your body and spirit replenished itself.”
A knife wound. Jedda closed his eyes. He reached and touched his side, felt bandages. When had he gotten a knife wound? Flashes of memory began to flicker around the edges, but nothing came clear.
“While we were cleaning you up, we found this.” Manu held up Jedda’s necklace-- the pendant he had kept close to him his entire life.
He made to reach for it, but the priest moved it away from his grasping hand.
“How did you come by this?” he asked, curious but stern. “Did you steal it?”
Jedda shook his head. “Not stolen.” He took offense at that, deep inside. The pendant was the one thing he could claim as his own.
“How came you to have this?”
“It was given to me. By my mother.”
“And who was your mother? Where is she?”
More coughing, followed by more water. Jedda gave a small shrug, made difficult by the way he was propped up on pillows. “I don’t know.”
The priest frowned.
“I don’t know,” he repeated. “She gave it to me when I was small. But then she left me, or something happened to her. I don’t know. I was too young. I don’t remember.” It was getting a little easier to speak now, but his mouth still felt dry. Another drink.
“Do you know what this is?”
Another shrug. He shook his head slightly. “No. Just that it may be Beddo. And that it is probably very old.”
The priest nodded.
“Do you know what it is?” Jedda asked, reversing the question, and hoping for an answer.
Another nod. “It is Beddo. And it is ancient. And it is sacred.”
Jedda heard the last word. Sacred. He worried he had broken some law and was now in trouble. Maybe that was why Manu had sent Aldo from the room.
“These were given to our people, to each of the tribes that vowed to remain faithful.”
Jedda frowned. He remembered the old tale, but couldn’t believe in stories with god
s and people and promises. Someone was always talking about this or that deity. Like the red god. He might swear by the red god, but that didn’t mean he actually believed in the red god. The gods were just something to scare people. He wasn’t sure if he believed in them or not. Maybe there had been gods once. But he had never seen anything to show they still existed. They certainly hadn’t been there when he needed them.
Manu gazed at Jedda as though reading his expression. “You do not believe.”
Jedda shrugged. “I do not disbelieve, but I do not know what to believe as true.”
“Well, your friend will be glad to know you are awake now. He’s been waiting to see you and make sure you are okay.”
Jedda looked up to see Destryn standing in the doorway, looking unsure. "Are you awake?” he asked.
“Yes. Awake,” Jedda said. He wondered why Destryn had come to see him, considering how frightened he'd been after the blast.
“Kirrin’s things. We picked them up, and your pack, as well. The horses are stabled where they were before.” Destryn was holding Kirrin’s pack.
Jedda's stomach knotted up. He couldn’t stop staring at the pack, ragged at the edges and well-worn from years of use. “Thank you.”
“A container was found… for… for the ashes. He was a good man, a good rider,” Destryn said, paying Kirrin the highest compliment he could.
Jedda nodded agreement. “He deserved better than he got.”
“The first rule of magic; not to use it for harm. Now perhaps the lesson is learned even if in a painful manner.”
Jedda lowered his gaze to the floor. He deserved far worse than this.
“There is need to return Kai to his family. But someone should bring this news to Tattia.” Destryn shifted Kirrin’s pack as he spoke. And Kirrin’s things. And what was left of her son. He didn't say those words, but they seemed to hang there in the air all the same.
Destryn hesitated, opened his mouth, then stopped.
“What do you want to say?” Jedda asked.
“It’s just … if going to seek Tattia, caution with your magic is advised. The magic outside the Faenyr lands does not always flow the same as within.”
Jedda felt the sting of Destryn’s words. He did not need this reminder of his own failings. Then something the elders had said came crashing down on him with full force. They had been shielding him in Jynwyn. It hadn’t seemed that important at the time, just a casual mention. He should have paid more attention and taken their words more seriously. Had that contributed to the lack of control that had caused Kirrin’s death?
Jedda’s misery turned to dread. He was going to have to live with what he had done- what he had caused. He wasn’t sure he could face Tattia and tell her what had happened.
“Kai is waiting with the horses. The pack is here, by the door.” Destryn placed it on the floor, keeping a careful distance from Jedda.
Jedda nodded. Part of him wanted to go back with Kai and Destryn. But he heard clear the reproach in Destryn’s words. He wasn’t welcome there anymore. “Take care of Ashai,” he said, working to keep his voice steady.
“Ashai is Jedda’s horse. A gift, and chosen by Ashai, to go with Jedda wherever Jedda goes,” Destryn said, his words coming from far away. He stopped at the door and turned back, adding, “Please protect Ashai and keep safe.”
Jedda finally broke, hearing that. Warm tears streamed down his face. He nodded, swallowing hard, trying to find his voice, and managed to choke out one word. “Promise.”
“Stay safe,” Destryn bid him and nodded as he left.
Jedda lay there for a while, drifting in and out of sleep. He dreamed he was back in the Faenyr cabin, but it was empty now. Silence echoed off the walls as he moved through the empty rooms. No sign of any of them having ever been there remained. Except for in one corner by the door, where Kirrin’s pack sat. It hadn’t been there before. And he saw Kai’s face, the look of horror. Or was it Cham?
He woke up, wiping tears from his face. Manu stood at the foot of his bed. “Your friends said to tell you goodbye. They didn’t want to wake you.”
Jedda nodded. He didn’t have the energy to argue the lie.
“They stayed to make sure you were okay.”
Jedda shrugged. Destryn would. Duty and honor. As soon as Jedda woke up, that obligation was met and he left as fast as he could.
“You will need more time to mend, especially from the magic. In another day or so, your appetite will return. You may find yourself very hungry from the ordeal, from the overload.”
Another shrug.
“Having happened once, now causes a problem that it may happen again.”
“It won’t,” Jedda said.
“There is always the risk.”
“Not if I don’t do any more magic.”
The priest shook his head. “It is not that simple. You possess Faenyr magic. It is awake and active. If you can gain proficiency in both, you stand the best chance of keeping them separate. You need better control and understanding of both forms.”
Jedda cringed. He didn’t want to think about it. He shook his head. “No more magic.”
The priest pulled up a chair and sat by Jedda’s side. “That will not save your friends. And at some point, someone else will be in danger as a result. Not now, but soon, this should be remedied.”
It was more than he could bear to think about in the moment. Then he imagined Diya in Kirrin’s place and cold terror seized him. He turned his head away and feigned sleep so the man would go away and leave him alone. He just wanted to be alone.
Manu and Aldo checked on him several times. The next day, they let him get up and walked outside with him. It was bright and sunny, birds were singing. Jedda heard all the little noises of life and nature. And he felt separated from all of it. Life was moving forward, but he felt stuck, left behind. Abandoned.
They walked him around the gardens, but after the second circle, Jedda began to feel tired, so they went back to his room. Aldo brought a tray of food.
“Please. Eat. Or Manu will be displeased with me,” Aldo said.
Jedda picked up a piece of cheese, nibbled at it, finished it.
“Try the chicken,” Aldo suggested, nudging the plate around so it was within easy reach.
Jedda picked up a piece, already cut into bite-sized bits, And stuck it in his mouth. He really didn't feel like eating, but his stomach had other ideas and he soon finished everything on the plate.
Aldo smiled, satisfied. “Sleep,” he suggested and took his leave.
Jedda lay there in the fading light and wondered what he was going to do. He was improving enough that staying at the temple wasn’t going to be an option soon. Maybe he could stay in Treyu, keep hidden, head down. He still had some coins left in his pack, and he could try to find some work on the docks. But he had no idea what kind of skills that might require. He considered asking Gherant or Flint for work, but then realized he might be putting them in danger if he stayed. Hak’kar might keep looking for him here. He fell asleep hating all of his choices equally.
He woke up to the sounds of Manu opening the windows, humming brightly. Breakfast sat on a tray next to his bed. Sausage rolls. The smell made his stomach growl.
The priest watched while he ate, looking satisfied. “A caravan has come into the city. They will be traveling west, toward Oldfall.”
Jedda looked at the man, wondering if he was trying to make small talk. Somehow he doubted it. That was more like Aldo, than Manu.
“They may welcome an additional hand, while they travel. One of the men is Aldo’s cousin. It may be good company as you make your journey westward.”
Maybe it was a sign. Maybe this was the lya chiqui, showing him his path. He gave the priest a half-hearted nod of agreement. He had no plan of his own, and this at least would get him moving forward.
“Also,” Manu added, changing the tone of his voice, “if you change your mind, there is a magic user that travels with each caravan.”
> “I am feeling better,” Jedda admitted. “So there’s no real reason for me to stay here longer,” he said, steeling himself.
Manu looked contrite. “I didn’t mean to be rushing you on your way.”
Jedda looked up, as he sat up and reached across the bed for his pack, pulling out fresh clothes. “Now is as good a time as any.” Manu nodded. “I shall ask Aldo to prepare your horse for you while you prepare yourself.” He said, and left the room. Jedda nodded his thanks, but Manu was already gone. He dressed, wincing at the stiffness of his underused muscles, shoved his belongings into his pack and took one last look around the room. He saw Kirrin’s pack, still by the door, and lifted it, feeling it’s weight. Manu returned, interrupting his thoughts. “Your horse is ready.”
“Thank you,” Jedda said, as he slung the two packs over his shoulder, and followed the priest outside.
“Be careful for the next several days,” Manu said, placing a hand on Jedda’s shoulder as they walked. “Your body is still mending and your essence is still depleted.”
“I understand,” Jedda said. It was the kind of advice Kirrin might have given. The man’s hand felt strange. Manu and Aldo touched and hugged a lot. He pretended to sneeze, and wiped his face quickly, pushing the memories away. “And I will remember the advice and take it slow.”
“You can find other temples along the way. In Oldfall there is a shrine to Chayan. It has been long since my old bones have made that journey,” Manu said. Then he reached into his robes, taking out a small cloth wrapped up into a tiny bundle. “If you would be so kind as to carry this, and make this offering in my name it would make an old man very happy.”
“I can do that,” Jedda said. “It is the least I could do, after the careful tending you have so tirelessly provided.” Jedda said as he tucked it into the side pouch on his pack where he kept small things. “I don’t know when I might get there, but I promise I will go, even if it is not along my way.”
Manu nodded, squeezing Jedda’s shoulder slightly as they walked towards the barn. “Chayan will draw you there, I feel it in my heart. If not the shrine in Oldfall, then one of his other sacred sites.”
