Daughter of Light (Follower of the Word Book 1)

by Morgan L. Busse

Lore glanced at Rowen. She lay still on the ground, pale in the moonlight. A sudden chill rose up from the sea, and he felt another one of the sea’s moods sweep over him.

  The storm was closer now. Lore glanced out over the water. The sea looked like white froth in the moonlight. He could hear the waves crashing across the shore. Lightning flashed in the distance. A gust of wind slammed into the hill, shaking the bushes and bending the tree.

  Moving quickly, Lore entered the small cavern. In his mind he was instantly taken back to when he used to come here as a boy. Ahead was a small room with a high ceiling. The ground was uneven with rocks and sand spread across its floor. Two boulders the size of tables stood against the far wall. Not much else was in here. It would do as temporary shelter.

  He wedged his torch between the two boulders and went back out to retrieve Rowen. He gently lifted her up again and moved her inside. A loud clap of thunder echoed across the cave. The storm was moving in more quickly than he had anticipated. He found a flat spot amongst the jagged ground and carefully placed her down. Then he went back out for the pack.

  At least we made it to the cave, Lore thought, grabbing the pack and a couple of pieces of driftwood. He hurried back inside. The wind howled through the opening. Lore dropped the driftwood near one of the walls and moved toward Rowen. Another chill raced through the cave, causing him to shiver. With only a half ripped shirt on, there wasn’t enough on him to ward off the cool air.

  With shaky hands, he opened Rowen’s pack. Inside he found two thin blankets, one extra set of clothes, a water skin, and dried food wrapped in cheesecloth. Lore took the clothes and rolled them into a bundle. He placed the bundle under Rowen’s head. She groaned and tilted her head to the side.

  Lore moved to place the blanket over her and stopped. He hadn’t checked her wound recently. Placing the blanket down, Lore moved to her other side and carefully unwrapped the long piece of cloth he had tied around her midsection. He lifted the bloody wad of cloth away and found blood caked along her side. He reached over and grabbed the water skin. He moistened his finger with a drop of water and wiped away the scarlet fluid. Underneath, he found nothing. Rowen had already healed herself.

  Lore stared at the spot in amazement, his finger running over the narrow scar that lay lengthwise across her side. He had grown up hearing stories of the Eldarans, how they had fought alongside the Word during the Great Battle. Then afterward, some had chosen to stay in the Lands. They had traded their ethereal bodies for flesh in order to continue their protection of mankind. But they had been stories, history, not something he had ever expected to see in his lifetime.

  His eyes followed the curve of her side, his hand at the narrow part of her waist. Such beautiful, flawless skin—

  Lore yanked back his hand and covered her side up with her shirt. He had no business going there, not when Rowen was unconscious, and not when she did not belong to him. He grabbed one of the blankets and tucked it around her body instead.

  As he placed the last edge of the blanket around her neck, he looked down at her face. That Rowen was an Eldaran was astonishing. But there was more to it than that. Not even an Eldaran would necessarily take on such a mortal wound as his. Why had she done it? Why had she healed him? He had been both ready and eager to die.

  “Why, Rowen?” Lore whispered.

  His memories flashed back to the fallen bodies of Lord Gaynor and Justus. Guilt wrapped itself around his heart, choking out any other feelings. He had failed them.

  Lore stood and moved across the cave. He could feel his blood starting to stir. Another peal of thunder echoed across the cave. Outside, the rain began to fall.

  He grabbed the driftwood and placed it in the center of the small room. He looked around and found bits of windblown debris lodged under the rocks or piled up in the corners. He stuffed the kindling under the driftwood. After striking the flint twice, a spark fell. The tiny flame spread across the dead grass and leaves.

  Lore moved back to Rowen’s side and stared at the fire. It made its way up and around the driftwood, casting shadows across the jagged stone walls.

  The rain fell harder. But he knew the full storm wasn’t here, not yet. He rubbed his arms. He did not look forward to when it arrived.

  Dark thoughts slowly entered his mind, thoughts of death and despair. For a moment Lore wished he had died. But then he would glance down at the woman who had almost given her life to save his. That reminder brought shame to him, and he ventured to those thoughts no more.

  But the guilt remained. For what she had done for him. For how he had failed Lord Gaynor. And he could not run away from it. Lore ran a shaky hand through his hair, wishing there was some way he could rid himself of the feeling. And it did not help that as the storm approached, it intensified his emotions.

  “Word, why did you…?” Lore stared at his hands. Why? Why…? His head dropped. He could not finish the thought.

  Eventually he laid down an arm’s length away from Rowen. He was beyond exhaustion, but his mind would not let him go. He had experienced many dark moments in his life, but this was by far the darkest. It seemed dawn would never come again. Even words of prayer ceased to enter his mind.

  Lightning lit up the cave, followed by a clap of thunder. Lore stared at Rowen. He reached over and pulled the blanket slightly aside, exposing her left hand. Gently he touched her fingertips.

  Lore relaxed at her touch. He kept his hand next to hers and watched the fire burn. Then slowly he closed his eyes and gave in to his exhaustion.

  • • •

  Lore woke up with a shudder. The storm outside was in full rage, churning the air and pelting the outside with hail. His own heart raced in tempo with the wind. Pulling the blanket tightly around his neck, he felt his fingers trembling. His blood boiled with the agitation of the sea.

  This is bad, Lore thought. Another shudder passed through his body. Sleep now driven from his mind, he sat up and began to rub his aching arms. His sea blood sped through his body. As a boy, his mother would do this, singing softly as she rubbed away the storm.

  Now he fought his sea blood alone.

  The fire quietly burned in the middle of the room. Lore turned and studied Rowen in the dark. She lay unconscious, her chest barely rising and falling. Her eyes were tightly shut.

  Lore pulled one hand away and reached over and touched her cheek. It was cold, colder than it should be. He frowned. He felt along her cheek and along her jaw. Her skin was frigid to the touch.

  Was this a normal part of Eldaran healing? Lore felt her neck and hands. Both were chilled. He had no idea.

  Concerned, Lore tore his blanket away and draped it over her body. The chill in the cave air barely touched his skin, his blood now hot from the storm raging through his body.

  He pulled Rowen up to a sitting position and hugged her to himself. He kept her covered by both blankets. Her head lulled across his chest. Lore placed his legs on either side of her and began to rub her arms.

  “Come on, Rowen,” Lore said quietly, his hands tingling with the friction. “Whatever this is, pull through.” Another flash of lightning brightened the cave, followed by a resounding boom. Lore shuddered under the effects. His body hurt, and fatigue ate away at what little energy he had.

  After the tremor passed, he touched her face. Her skin still felt like ice beneath his fingers. Fear gripped his heart. Lore rubbed her arms again, willing his warmth to seep through to her. “Come on, Rowen. Fight this!”

  Moments later, another shudder rippled through his body, this time so strongly that Lore hunched over and stopped. “Word, help me,” he whispered. Never had a storm hurt this bad, and just when he needed his mind and strength to help Rowen. “Help me, I can’t do this alone.”

  Lore pulled himself back up. His throat felt tight, and his body ached. He began rubbing her arms again. He fought against the next shudder. Sweat broke out across his forehead and body. He did everything he could to help her, warm her.

  Only, nothing se
emed to be working. A few minutes later, Lore felt for the pulse in her neck and found a weak throb.

  Lore wrapped his arms around Rowen and buried his head in her hair. “Why did you do this?” he whispered. It seemed her power wasn’t enough to heal them both.

  Outside, the rain fell, its harsh patter echoing across the cave. Thunder boomed every few seconds. The fire had burned down to a pile of glowing embers.

  That was it. He could do no more.

  Lore slumped against the cave wall and closed his eyes. Word, she’s Yours now. I’ve done everything I can. Then Lore laughed, but it came out more like a choke. Here he was, handing Rowen over to the Word, when in fact she had been in the Word’s hands the entire time. He closed his eyes, too tired to move.

  Rowen shifted slightly and moaned.

  Lore’s eyes snapped open. “Rowen?” She moaned again. Her voice gave him one last ounce of strength. Lore pushed himself up, fighting the fatigue that weighed down his arms.

  “Rowen?” he said again, readjusting his hold on her until he could see her face. Her eyes were still closed, but not as tightly as they had been minutes ago. He felt her cheek, warm now to the touch. He reached for her left hand. It felt warm, the iciness from minutes ago gone. Relief flooded his weary body. “Thank You, Word.” Lore gripped Rowen tightly to his chest. “Thank You.”

  He pulled the blankets back over her shoulders. He went to move her but found all his strength gone. Lore fell back against the cave wall, Rowen with him. He would move her, eventually. But for now this would have to do. He had no more strength left to move.

  • • •

  The world was dark and cold. Rowen shook, feeling the coldness envelop her body, starving out any warmth left within her. She almost wished for the searing pain from minutes before—it was easier to bear than this impenetrable coldness. Or had it been hours ago?

  Rowen tried to shake her head in order to clear it but found she could not move. The only thing she could do was shiver.

  Now and then the coldness was punctuated by brief moments of warmth. She clung to these, wishing she could pull the warmth into her very being, but they warmed her only on the outside. When the warmth left, Rowen would begin to shake again and her mind filled with darkness.

  After hours or days—she didn’t know which—she finally saw something. It was hazy, without any clear lines, but it looked warm. So she struggled toward it. The red haze continued to spread across her vision.

  Rowen opened her eyes.

  The world came into sharp focus. The red she had seen was a fire burning cheerfully a few feet away. For a moment she watched the flames leap and dance in the air, the dark background causing them to burn more brightly.

  Rowen closed her eyes. Even looking around for just a moment exhausted her. Slowly she opened them again. Her eyes roved beyond the fire, where she spied a dark figure sitting just beyond the fire’s light. It was hunched over, but in the dark she could not make out much of its shape. Was it a friend or foe?

  Either way, Rowen felt compelled to get its attention, to let someone know that she was still alive. She opened her mouth to speak, but instead a raspy cough left her throat.

  The figure turned. “Rowen?” the figure said, the tone a mixture of surprise and relief.

  The figure knew her—that was a good sign. Rowen tried to speak again, but her mouth and throat would not work. The figure moved toward her. She still could not see who it was, but the voice sounded familiar.

  “Oh, thank the Word, you’re finally awake!”

  Suddenly she was looking into Lore’s face. “Captain?” she said, rasping.

  “Yes, I’m here.” She felt him take her hand. “How are you feeling?”

  She tried to lick her lips. “Thirsty,” she said weakly.

  “I have a full water skin here,” he said, reaching behind him. Then, placing one arm behind her head, he lifted her up to the skin.

  The water tasted heavenly on her parched tongue. “Thank you,” she said, her voice more normal now. Lore laid her gently back down. “Where are we?” she asked, glancing up at the jagged stone ceiling. It looked like it had been carved out of sandstone. Only the stone wasn’t smoothed down. It looked instead as if it had been left in its natural state.

  “A cave just north of Avonai.”

  A cave. That explained the rough ceiling. “Where is everyone else?

  “Hopefully near the White City by now.”

  She turned her eyes back toward Lore.

  “We had no time to take you to Fiske,” he said. “Someone had to stay behind and take care of you. And since I grew up around here, I knew a safe place to take you.”

  “You grew up around here? Wait, you’re—you’re Avonain?”

  “Yes.”

  “As in one of the coastal people?”

  Lore chuckled. “Yes.”

  Rowen looked back up at the ceiling. She had known Lore for months now, but had never realized… Wait: his eyes. That explained why his eyes changed. Why they changed from green to blue to grey. By looking into his eyes, she was really seeing the ever-changing surface of the ocean. Living in Cinad, she had never met an Avonain before, but she had heard about their connection to the sea.

  A gust of wind tore through the cave, shoving its icy fingers beneath her blanket. Rowen clutched the woolen cloth to her neck. The fire flickered for a moment, then resumed its burn. Her eyes darted back toward Lore.

  He was shaking. She eyed him more carefully as he placed another piece of driftwood on the fire. The trembling was more noticeable around his hands. Was he cold, or was the storm outside doing this to him? Belatedly, she noticed that his shirt was torn and part of it was missing. Hardly clothing for a cold storm like this. What had he done to his shirt? And where was his jerkin—

  Rowen sat straight up. The cave went spinning around and dark spots popped across her vision.

  “Whoa, should you be doing that?” She felt Lore’s hands across her back.

  Her vision came back into focus. “I’m-I’m fine.” Rowen brushed her head with her fingertips.

  “You sure?”

  “Yes, yes. But what about you? Are you all right?”

  Lore dropped his hands and gave her a funny look.

  Rowen looked at him with concern. “You. You almost died. And your hands, they’re shaking. Are you—are you all right?” Had she been able to heal him?

  Lore lifted one hand and looked at it. It trembled in the firelight. “Yes. I’m fine. From the knife wound, that is. As far as my hands shaking, it’s the storm outside.” He put his hand back down and jerked his head toward a small opening in the cave wall. “It does this to me.”

  Rowen looked toward the opening, then around the cave. It was small, about half the size of the training room back home. The walls and ceiling were made of rough sandstone. The fire’s light danced across the pockmarked surface. Two boulders stood against the far wall. Her pack lay open near a stack of wood. Both of her blankets were spread across her lap.

  “You can feel the storm?” she said, looking back at Lore.

  Lore smiled. “Yes. Most Avonains develop a tolerance for the sea’s moods, but since I’ve lived most of my life in the White City and not near the sea, my tolerance is very low. Storms like this can wreak havoc on me.”

  “I’m sorry.” Rowen pulled one of the blankets off her lap. “Here, take this. I don’t need two blankets. You look like you could use one.”

  Lore took the blanket and placed it next to him.

  “I had no idea, about the storm, that is. Does it…hurt?”

  “It did.” Lore took a stick and stoked the fire. “But I’m better now, now that the storm has lessened.” He pushed the wood around a minute longer, then tossed the stick in. “How about you?” He turned to look at her. “How are you doing?”

  “I’m feeling…better,” she said, wondering if Lore meant more by his question. He hadn’t brought up the fact that she had healed him. Or maybe he didn’t know? Suddenl
y her stomach rumbled loudly.

  “And hungry too, by the sound of it.” Lore gave her a quick smile and reached for the pack that lay near the fire. He rummaged through it and found a small hard biscuit. “Sorry,” he said, holding it out to her. “It’s not much. In the morning I’ll try and catch something.”

  She waved off his comment and tore into the biscuit. The small round contained dried fruits and nuts. She chewed greedily on the hard biscuit.

  Lore laughed. Rowen glanced up, puzzled. His features relaxed into a gentle smile. “It’s good to see you better.”

  She felt more than heard his relief. “I guess I really am hungry, to be eating this.” Rowen held up the last bit of her biscuit. She studied for a moment. “Always thought they were nasty.”

  Lore laughed again. It echoed off the cave walls. It was a nice sound, she decided. “I always thought so too,” he said.

  She finished the round and brushed the crumbs away.

  Lore turned toward the fire. He drew his knees up and placed his arms casually over their tops. In the low light, Rowen could make out a couple days of growth on his face, giving him a more rugged appearance. It looked nothing like his usual neatly kept self.

  Rowen turned her gaze toward the fire as well. She felt her heart begin to pound inside her chest. It was time to tell Lore the truth. And even though she was sure he already knew or at least had guessed, it did not make it any easier.

  She wiped her clammy hands across the blanket and took a deep breath. “Captain,” Rowen began, her heart hammering so loud she could hear it inside her head. She watched him turn toward her from the corner of her eye, but she lacked the courage to look back.

  “Yes?” he asked, his voice light.

  “I- I’ve been keeping something from you all these months.” She felt like she was going to retch, but she pressed on. “I am not who you think I am. I am not…actually…human. I am—”

  “Eldaran,” Lore said quietly.

  Rowen took another deep breath and nodded. “Yes.” She waited for him to say more, but nothing came, so she continued. “I did not know until a couple days before we left for Avonai.”