by RR Turock
Chapter 4: Early Moonrise
Blood wouldn’t stop running through my fingers. The wound went through his stomach all the way to his spine. I felt lightheaded and nauseous from the smell of iron. I tried to wipe my hair out of my eyes, wiping the scarlet liquid over my face.
Coughing up the blood, Father, tried to smile, reaching up his hand to wipe aside my tears. Grabbing it quickly, I put it to my face. He tried to speak but only coughed harder. Finally, the words cleared in my mind, as he whispered. “Y—you are a horrible…fighter; didn’t I already tell you that? I—I want you to announce the heir…”
I shook my head indignantly. “I don’t know who you chose. You have to do it.”
Father grinned gently. “You will know…if you don’t know already, so…no tears…in…the desert…”
My tears splattered on his face, smudging the blood there. I muttered angrily. “I don’t want to. You do it.”
His chuckle came out as harsh spatters of blood, spraying over my clothes. “I—Irresponsible child... You h—have to be strong…” Father’s eyes suddenly looked past me to the east horizon, just past Karrazard. The almost-full moon rose silver there. “T—the ballad to the moon…isn’t moon so beautiful, little piper? On t—t—the Feast, it will… be… fully… beautiful… little… one…”
His eyes remained focused on the moon, eternally. They glazed over, and his body went limp in my arms. Blood dripped from the corner of his mouth and on the sand. I couldn’t breathe. The air was stifling. The tears stung as they trailed down my burning cheeks. Screams weld in my ears but nothing came out of my dry throat.
My fingers dug into my skull, ripping at my hair. A scream left my mouth, piercing the sky, painfully sharp. Fear was rooted in my heart, but rage flooded over it. Like a wild fire, it tore at me. The pain rung in my mind, everything flooded me at the same time. I couldn’t even hear Malec’s words as he was trying to calm me or maybe he was trying to comfort me.
It felt like years before exhaustion smashed into me and I calmed, taking in everything. I didn’t even realize that Malec had taken Father’s body and wrapped it in blankets already. I sat, fatigued, in the sand, arms tightened around my knees. The caravan had moved past, but my crew had stayed behind. They were in tears as well, mourning Father. Or perhaps they were mourning for me.
Malec took my hand in his, wiping the blood off. “Let’s go, put ‘em next to da river, alright, Missy? Then we'll find ya ma and tell 'er.”
I nodded numbly. My throat was too dry to speak.
He smiled grimly. “Let’s clean up. Then figure what to do from there, alright.”
This time I shook my head, taking a sip of water. I answered, hands curling into fists. “No, I know what to do.”
Nervously, Malec queried. “What’s that, Missy?”
I stood, resolute. “Do what Father told me to do.”
He stood up, looking at me, concern written in his brows. “How do we do that?”
My teeth clenched. “Wait and see.”
Malec whispered a gently as he could, his hand resting on my shoulder. “Ya know ya not alone, right, Missy?”
I turned to him, holding his hand in mine, as well as glancing over the crew. “That’s why I can do this. I could never make it without you or the crew. Will you help me?”
Everyone nodded unanimously, consenting. Malec asked me more confidently. “What do ya have in mind?”
I grinned, a new light lit in my eyes. “We keep with the plan to perform after the parade. I’ve come up with a perfect performance.”
Part 2: Run
