Suppressing his self-loathing, he focused on the task before him. There were miles to go before they reached the cove. Darkness would make travel slow, and his strength would not last much longer.
A few rays of moonlight illuminated his way well enough to avoid running into trees, but twigs broke and branches bent as he carried the youths onward. A wild dog barked and a raven crowed, evidence that a trespasser was disturbing the forest in clumsy haste.
Unseen by Bylo as he labored, a newly inked rune of health under the skin of an unconscious young man began ever so slightly to glow.
10
Flight
Gwyn had watched the announcement from behind a tree in the nearby woods, but had not been prepared for what transpired. Not only had a cursed boy been announced, but the girl had sucked the life out of a villager to save him. As a watcher, she had been privy to many secrets, but she'd never seen that before.
Now, an old man carried two youths on his shoulders, and even under the heavy burden, was able to run for miles. At first, she was convinced that he was a bear, possessing the magical gift of unfathomable strength. She found it difficult to keep up with his pace and eventually fell behind. When the sun finally set, she ran to the top of a hill and looked in the direction they had traveled, gratefully finding them with her vision: three glowing lights in a distant grassy clearing. One of the lights was shifting, clearly belonging to the girl.
She approached cautiously, picking her footfalls with care to avoid making noise. As she got closer, she saw the man attending to the boy in the dim light, perhaps dressing his wounds.
After a short time, he picked them both back up and moved again. She watched as they traveled several more miles, albeit at a much slower pace. Finally, the man stopped at the entrance to a small cove, barely discernible, even with her sight. They were now at least eight miles from the village. A cabin would have made for a much more suitable and comfortable resting place, and the oddity of his choice puzzled her until she saw what he had hidden there.
A boat. Small but sturdy, a thin sail hung loosely on its mast.
Curse Dei! The bear and his children would be on that boat in no time, and she would be unable to follow without a skiff of her own. She briefly toyed with the idea of contriving a chance meeting to petition a ride but realized the craziness of it. What man running across an island, assisted by strange magic and carrying two half-dead children on his shoulders, would welcome an encounter with a stranger, then dare to invite her along? Gwyn refocused her thoughts, as there were clearer solutions at hand.
She wasted no time, turning and sprinting for Dimmitt. She ran through the heavy woods, periodically falling in the dark onto sharp rocks or branches. Her legs ached from the exertion, and halfway back she was forced to detour around a group of villagers carrying torches and wandering the woods. Vigilantes who sought the fleeing outlaws? They seemed to lack direction, moved slowly, and would not find the man or his children tonight.
The village was dark and quiet upon her arrival. It would have been ideal to commission another post to Vorick, updating him on the announcement disaster and the girl's subsequent departure from town. Unfortunately, she had to make haste and could send no such note. Yet, the late hour favored her in another way; there would be nobody to stop her from getting what she needed.
She made for the dock and selected a small skiff. The dim light could not hide its age, sun-bleached wood and fraying mooring ropes, but it was equipped with two solid oars and a strong sail. She grabbed a snack from her pack to replenish her failing energy, then untied the boat and pushed off. A stray dog on the shore barked as she pointed the skiff northwesterly and rowed. As she left the small harbor, she scanned the cottages near the shoreline, but they remained dark with no evidence of a witness to her theft.
No wind assisted her, and she focused on the task ahead as she rowed. She was chasing a man so strong that he would easily outdistance her. Trying to reach him tonight would be a foolish ambition, so she must guess where he was headed. The north side of Dimmitt was devoid of homes, and the closest village would be Junn, across the sea. Junn was on the mainland and would provide options for further escape by road to the north, to the west toward Ankar, or by another boat to parts unknown. Yet the rough waters that typically accompanied a crossing to Junn could prove perilous. If a storm arose, a small craft would fail. How desperate must this man be to try such a dangerous trip in the dark?
There was no choice but to follow and hope for success. At least in Junn she could update the minister on her progress.
As if in response to her resolution, the loose sail began to dance, announcing a proper wind. She dropped the oars inside the boat, adjusted the sail, and turned in her seat to mind the tiller. As the skiff moved forward, she thanked the breeze and sat back to gaze at the distant horizon.
She would catch them soon.
Bylo placed the two youths on the rocky beach as gently as he could. He felt strength leeching away from his body, the last vestiges of magic dissipating from his rune. A growing fatigue commanded him to drop his packs, but he managed to carry them to the boat before resting. He placed Nara on a bedroll in the middle of the craft, grateful for her small size and commensurate lack of weight. Putting Mykel into the boat taxed him, however, and he strained his shoulder in the process. Weakness continued to overwhelm him and his body felt assaulted by the burdens he had carried. Sharp pains lanced from deep within his legs, and he was convinced that the rune had caused damage. Were bodies meant to bear this strain? Fortunately, honest labor had kept him healthy, and he might recover if he could rest.
He untied the skiff from the tree on the shore, coiling the rope and throwing it onto his seat near the stern. He tried to launch, but as if loading the gear and unconscious youths were not hard enough, the boat now carried so much cargo that he could not push it off the beach. Fortunately, the tide was heading in, and in less than an hour, the boat's weight would be suspended by new water.
He crawled inside to wait, then lay down between Nara and Mykel, his spirits lifted by their regular, easy respiration. There was no sign of a pursuit by villagers, they had almost escaped Dimmitt, and blessings could be found in that. He exhaled deeply, and while waiting for the tide to rise and release them from the shore, he took some rest.
A short time later, he was alerted by the morning sun dancing across his face as it lazily rose over the eastern horizon. He sat up to find the boat gently rocking among small waves, a light breeze brushing against his cheeks. They were floating away from shore, heading out of the cove. He fixed the sail and pointed the craft to the north. Junn was the closest town, and they would need supplies—he had not packed well enough for three people to travel far. After a time, he looked at Mykel and saw something he did not expect.
The wounds on Mykel’s face were healed! Several thin pink scars could be seen on his cheeks and forehead, which had previously been marked by gaping wounds. Carefully, so as not to overturn the boat, Bylo checked Mykel's arms, legs, and impaled hand, holding his breath in anticipation. Although covered in dozens of tiny new scars, the skin was healthy and vibrant. The tattoo had worked far better than he could ever have hoped and in such a short time! Perhaps Nara needn't ever be told how close her friend had come to the grave.
Pride leaped up from deep within him as he took joy in the accomplishment. He often thought of the gifted and the great power they held in the world. As a young man, he had been overcome with envy when he had received no gift during his own announcement. As old ambitions flooded back in a wave of nostalgia, an odd smile tugged at his lips. He had magic after all, but of a very different sort.
Nara awoke to the gentle sound of waves lapping and the scent of sea spray. She was in a boat. Confused, she lifted her head slowly, her vision blurring for several moments before she managed to make out Bylo sitting at the tiller. A sail flapped noisily in the wind over her head.
"Bylo?"
Her voice was faint, but he somehow he
ard her. "Nara!" His face lit up with apparent relief, and he abandoned the tiller and went to her, causing the boat to shake in his urgency. He felt her forehead and checked the bandages on her hand. "You're okay?"
"I'm tired. Where are we?"
"Oh, thank Dei. I was so worried," he said, visibly relaxing. "We're almost to Junn." He moved back to take his seat at the tiller. "Go back to sleep."
With a slight nod, she pulled the blanket tighter and rolled to her side with eyes half-closed, only to discover Mykel at her left, deep asleep. A raw, guilty ache dawned in her gut, and without knowing why, Nara found herself shaking.
Timidly, she reached out to place a hand on his chest. He breathed and his skin was unwounded, but bore small marks that could barely be seen. Scars?
"He's fine, Nara. Really."
Memories of the announcement ceremony flooded back. The pain of the ceppit through her palm. Mykel had fallen, ghostly pale, with horror in his eyes. She ran to him—she remembered that part clearly. What had happened after that was a blur. Mykel's light had faded, nearly winking out. Her desperation and plea for help, that special energy coming so close. Had it been Dei?
"He's okay. Seriously. Please rest."
She wanted to. Her fatigue was deep, more profound than ever before. She felt thin, insubstantial, like threadbare cloth. Her head remained heavy, and she could barely lift her arms. Perhaps sleep would be a good idea. She reclined again on the bedroll.
"Bylo?" Although her body had stopped shaking, her voice remained unsteady.
"Yes, dear?"
"Do you believe in Dei?"
"You know I do," he said.
"I have always wondered. I mean, I know what Father Taylor says. But you don't really talk about Dei much."
"He is a mystery to us all."
"He saved us. On the stage. Mykel and I were dying, and I think He was there. I felt Him."
Bylo said nothing.
She lifted herself slightly, propping up on one elbow.
"Mykel's energy faded, so I poured into him, like with your ink. But I saw that the ceppit was stealing his energy. I got rid of the knife, but there was so little left of him, and I… I had no strength left." Her voice cracked as she continued talking. "It was horrible… but He came. Dei came to us. I felt a light come close, and I reached out and took His energy, and it filled us… and Mykel came back to me."
Bylo said nothing, although her words clearly demanded a response. What wasn't he telling her this time? His silence drew her to darker places, reminding her of their new status as fugitives, away from Dimmitt for the very first time. Away from home. When would they be able to return? Would they ever?
"Bylo?" Her voice was stronger this time.
"Yes, Nara."
"How old was I when you chose Dimmitt?"
"You were just a baby."
Bylo had told her long ago that he had adopted her and would have been a grand fool to pretend otherwise. For who would have believed her to be his relation with that nose of his?
She paused a second before summoning up the courage to blurt it out what now nagged at her. "How could you be sure I would be gifted?"
Silence.
"Bylo!" She sat up completely, fueled by frustration. These secrets had been undisturbed for far too long.
The old man's eyes filled with a quiet sadness. "Nara, it's complicated."
"No, Bylo, it’s truth. Truth is easy. Give it to me. Please." Fully awake now, she implored him further. "I deserve to know who I am, and every single time I ask, you push me away."
Bylo closed his eyes and sighed deeply. A distant seabird squawked loudly before he finally spoke again. "I stole you, Nara. That's the truth—my truth and your truth."
Stole her? The anger subsided, replaced by confusion. "You mean you kidnapped me from my parents?"
"Oh no, not like that. You were in a church orphanage. I took you from the yard where you played. No papers, no names. Knowing what I did about you, I didn't want someone else to figure it out and find you."
"What did you know about me?"
Bylo adjusted the tiller and took in a deep breath. "Nara, at the monastery where I worked, I had a wise friend named Phelan. In his studies, he uncovered an error in scripture."
An error in scripture? Nara remained riveted as he began to speak the words she had longed to hear.
"Not an error in scripture, exactly. More like an error in our understanding of it. You see, when Breshi was first resurrected, the church began to translate the scripture texts. But they paid no attention to the runes in the margins. These runes give clues, Nara, and through study of them, Phelan found an error. Foretold by Dei, scholars in the church thought that the twin peaks of Fairmont would split, but Phelan discovered that actual human beings would separate, instead. Such a prophecy, if true, must surely involve magic. I was convinced that you would be gifted. Or more."
Bylo shifted in his seat, then fiddled with the sail and the tiller. Nara's brow twisted in confusion. "How can a human being separate, and what does that have anything to do with me?"
"Twins, Nara. Not the twin peaks near Fairmont that people talk about. Real human twins. Conjoined."
"But conjoined twins are an abomination," Nara said, repeating what she'd heard in church. She stopped talking, reaching to her back to touch her scar. "Am… am I...?"
"Yes," Bylo said.
A shiver ran from her head to her toes, freezing her in place. "Bylo, are you saying I have… a sister?"
He nodded quickly. "I think so, yes. I tried to find her."
"But the church didn't kill us."
"Maybe they didn't know," Bylo said.
The wonder of such a revelation about her origins seemed overwhelming. What exactly did this prophecy say, and could it really be about her? She was a conjoined twin that had been allowed to survive. A human being carved in half, or two that Dei wanted to remain joined? Or was it Kai that had created them?
Questions arose in the wake of this. Why had the physician defied the church to separate her and her sister? A kindness, or an experiment?
She often felt like half a person and now she knew why. Perhaps her headaches were part of this, as well as the emptiness that sometimes came. Knowledge that she was different. Broken. It was there now, but more poignant, deeper with the revelation Bylo brought. Deeper now that it had a reason.
Fatigue commanded her notice, and her eyes were heavy as she shifted her gaze to stare at the water. She focused on a log that floated nearby, bouncing in the waves, unable to do anything about the water and wind that pushed it to destinations unknown.
Bylo continued to explain. "If conjoined twins had survived, I knew that the evidence would be easy to find. Surgery would leave scars. Because of this, I traveled to the larger cities and eventually to Fairmont. A surgeon with supreme skill would be required to accomplish such a separation. It wasn't as hard as you might think once you start with the assumption that the scriptures predicted the separation of human twins. That was Phelan's theory. Where else but rich, populated, well-connected cities for skilled physicians?"
Nara nodded. His logic made sense, but hearing the mysteries of her childhood unraveled had unsettled her, and she didn't have words. She belonged to a tale from scripture? Like Jasep and the talisman, perhaps?
Bylo continued. "Such a special set of twins could be born to rich folks or poor folks, but a rich couple would destroy such a child right away. The embarrassment of a broken birth would be devastating to a family that dwelled among folks in high society. They would not allow the shame."
Nara's face flushed.
"I'm sorry, Nara. I'm not ashamed of you. I was talking about how rich folks think." The words were insufficient to suppress the truth that she had been unwanted. A scarred, broken baby.
"It's okay, Bylo. I get it."
After a pause, he swallowed and continued. "If such a surgery were to be successful, the children's recovery would be difficult, the care of them time-consuming, and
a poor family would not have the resources to bear it."
A breeze swept across the boat, bringing a chill, and Nara huddled closer to Mykel as he slept.
"Such twins could not be delivered normally, and the physician would have to cut the woman to extract them. She would probably not have survived. The poor man who was your father would have been overwhelmed."
Her mother was likely dead. Her father was likely poor, overwhelmed with two broken babes. "He abandoned us, didn't he?"
"I would think so. In anticipation of this, I searched orphanages in Fairmont. Ten years of looking, of waiting, volunteering to help here and there, until I saw you."
Lifting her head again, she gazed upon his old, kind face.
"So small, but you played just as hard as the other kids. Maybe only two years old, but you ran like the wind and laughed just as loud."
"How did you know? I mean, how did you know it was me?"
"Your scar."
"Oh," she said.
"Little ones run around and play with no shirt on in the middle of the summer, my dear."
"Of course."
The scar. She couldn't see it herself and had always sought to hide it with her clothing. The mark was something she remained only subtlety aware of.
"Did the prophecy give a date?"
"No, it didn't."
"Then how did you know it would be in your lifetime, and had not happened long ago?"
"Great question, and one that I asked myself many times," Bylo said, then cleared his throat. "If it had happened long ago, then the histories would have shown a time when there was conflict and pain to many, as the scripture foretells. The only such time would have been the mysterious disappearance of the Breshi civilization. That was certainly a possibility that haunted me as I searched. The second option would have been that it wouldn't happen until after I was too old to search. Or after I was dead. It brought on thoughts that I would be looking until my last day, feeling like a fool the whole time. But I don't believe Dei does things without a reason. I had faith that Phelan's discovery was timely and purposeful, so I remained steadfast."
The Godseeker Duet Page 7
