Souls of Aredyrah 3 - The Taking of the Dawn

by Tracy A. Akers

  The healing properties of the springs bested every medicinal known in Kirador. It was through them that individuals eased their joint pains, lung ailments, and various wasting diseases that no one could name. It was unfortunate that the distance was such a burden on his mother, and that the presence of others at the springs made her feel unwelcome. But then Dayn recalled a time when he had been little; his mother had brought him to the springs to heal an infection in his lungs. Other Kiradyns had been there that day. He remembered how they had looked at him then gathered their things and scurried away. The memory crawled under his skin, but it also stoked his determination. I have as much right to be here as anyone else, he told himself.

  Dayn picked up his pace, suddenly aware of two pillars towering before him: the gateway to the springs. He walked between them, working to focus his eyes through the fog. To his right, statues broke through the mist, their stone-cold faces watching him as he passed. But their gazes caused him no fear; at least their eyes didn’t judge. He stopped and looked around, detecting no movement other than the slow ramble of mist at his feet.

  A gurgle sounded to his left, and he stepped in that direction. A layer of haze hid the waters that rippled beyond the stone-lined edge of the pool. Dayn squatted and dipped in a hand, relishing the sting of warmth upon his fingers. He rose and wiped his hand across his shirt as he trained his eyes across the pool. It was as large as he remembered, able to accommodate hundreds of people at a time. On three sides of it, structures were situated: one a temple to Daghadar made of smooth pink marble; another a series of wishing springs draped with arbors of leaf and vine; the third a dressing area, constructed of carved cedar and sectioned off to provide privacy.

  Dayn scrutinized his surroundings. No sign of Falyn, but what did he expect? He felt disappointed, but most of all a keen sense of despair. What was he to do now? Wait here until he starved, or trudge back to his uncle’s farm with his tail between his legs? He could fathom neither, but right now a decision could wait. There were warm waters to consider, and ten throbbing toes trapped in miserable boots.

  He bent to unwrap the leather straps that coiled up his legs, but an unexpected sound gave him pause. His mind raced—perhaps it was Falyn! But then another thought shoved its way in. What if it was someone he would rather not meet up with, like Sheireadan, or even worse, their father Lorcan?

  Dayn eased toward the nearest pillar and ducked behind it, then directed his attention toward the sound of hushed voices on the opposite side of the pool. Two forms could be seen emerging from the temple, picking their way toward the waters. At first Dayn could barely make them out; they looked more like apparitions than humans. A chill prickled his scalp, telling him to head in the other direction, but the power of his curiosity rooted him where he stood.

  As the images came more into view, Dayn realized that one was much taller than the other. Both wore long cloaks, and their faces were hidden by the shadows of their hoods. The taller one was hunched and limping, perhaps an old man come to take a healing. The second appeared to be a woman guiding the man toward the pool.

  Soft words were spoken between them, but Dayn could not decipher them. The couple stopped, and the man turned to face the woman. His back was to the pool, as well as to Dayn on the other side of it, and his silhouette all but swallowed the woman standing on the opposite side of him. A slight movement of the woman’s elbows was all that Dayn could make of her, but it soon became apparent that she was unclasping the man’s tunic.

  Dayn slid from his hiding place, his curiosity goading him for a better look. He worked his way from pillar to pillar, pausing behind each as he made his way nearer to where the couple stood. He stepped lightly, praying his footsteps would not betray his presence, but the careless snap of a twig froze him in his tracks. His eyes darted toward the strangers, but the casual murmur of their voices indicated they had not heard it. He released a slow breath and settled his attention on a stone half-wall nearby. It was an ideal place for viewing, and near enough to the forest that Dayn could make a quick escape should he need to. He wasn’t sure what there was to fear from a woman and a crippled old man, but he had long since learned that people were not always what they seemed.

  Dayn reached the wall and slunk behind it. He peeked over the ledge, his eyes alert. The man was still standing before the woman, but now he was completely undressed and shivering from the cold. The curves of the man’s backside were thick and muscular, and his long dark hair was braided down his back. Clearly this was not an old man, but a young one, and a badly damaged one at that. His back, legs, and buttocks were mottled with angry bruises, and his spine was angled in such a way as to suggest he had been wounded. His hands were discreetly placed, and as he worked his rumpled pants legs from his feet, his movements were slow and stiff.

  Dayn swallowed with uneasiness. For an unclothed man to be standing before a woman was simply not acceptable, especially not out in the open like this. Perhaps such things were allowed in the privacy of a marital bedroom, but never in a public place. Dayn felt shame as his attentions lingered on the man’s nakedness, yet he could not turn his eyes away. His masculine pride demanded a comparison.

  The woman pushed back her hood and guided the man to the pool. Dayn spun and threw his back against the wall. “What sin is this?” he gasped. He rose to look upon the couple once more, determined his eyes were playing some sort of trick. But to his roiling discomfort, he realized they were not. The woman by the pool was Falyn, and the shameless young man who stood naked before her was none other than Sheireadan.

  Back to ToC

  Chapter 6: Sins of the Father

  Dayn felt as though he had been kicked in the gut. The image of Falyn standing in front of her brother like that, the boy’s nakedness flaunted before her, was more than Dayn could stomach. A part of him wanted to purge it into the bushes. The other part wanted to beat Sheireadan into a bloody pulp. And yet, from the look of things, someone had already beaten him to the punch.

  Dayn eased his gaze back over the wall. Sheireadan was working his way into the water, his battered body turned in Dayn’s direction. Dayn kept his focus on Sheireadan’s face, ordering his own eyes to roam no further. From the pain in Sheireadan’s expression, and the angry bruise painted across his cheek, his abuser had done a thorough job.

  Sheireadan lost his balance for a moment, and Falyn plunged into the water to assist him. Her skirt ballooned on the surface as she grabbed his elbow to right him. “This is far enough,” she said, her voice amplified across the water.

  “What are you doing!” Sheireadan snapped. “Father will know for sure now.”

  Falyn looked distressed, then set her face with resolution. “I’ll just shove my wet clothes under the laundry pile before he has a chance to see them.”

  “What about the smell of the water? How are you going to disguise that? I swear, Falyn. What was the point in me stripping down to nothing if you’re going to plunge into the water like a fool.”

  “Enough. It’s done,” Falyn said crossly.

  “Well you’re going to freeze before we even get home. Did you think about that?”

  “I’ll wear your cloak,” she replied. Then she grinned. “Did you think about that?”

  “Fine,” Sheireadan grumbled. He turned away from her and took a step. “I need to go deeper.”

  “No need,” Falyn said. She cupped the water in her hands and trickled it over his shoulders and back. “There, see?”

  Sheireadan winced.

  “You really did it this time,” Falyn said. “Will you never learn?”

  “I’d say I’ve learned more than my share,” Sheireadan replied. Then he mumbled something that Dayn could not hear.

  Dayn watched them cautiously as he inched along the wall. He ducked behind the nearest pillar, then peeked around to see if he was in Falyn’s and Sheireadan’s line of vision. Confident that he was not, he leaned around the column, far enough to spy on them without being detected, yet close enough
to hear their conversation.

  “Fool,” he heard Falyn say. “Would you have him kill you next time?”

  “Better me than you,” Sheireadan replied.

  Falyn smirked. “He wouldn’t dare. I wouldn’t be worth much to him dead, now would I?”

  “Maybe not. But after he’s handed you over and gotten what he wants, what then? Will Zared treat you any better?”

  “I’ll not go with Zared.”

  “Then you will be dead, sister, and all the blows I’ve taken for you will have been for nothing.”

  Dayn sucked in a breath. Sheireadan had received the injuries in defense of his sister? For a moment a hint of admiration threatened to weaken Dayn’s distain of the boy, but then he remembered the hundreds of blows he had received from Sheireadan, and all thoughts of charity dissipated.

  But what did Zared have to do with anything? Zared was a deacon of the Vestry. He was an elderly man, with narrow, beady eyes that leered whenever the girls were around. Dayn had heard the gossip, but just like everyone else, would never bear false witness against someone he knew little more about than that. Besides, Zared was not just any member of the Vestry; he was a man whose wealth gave him more power than most. His wrath could make anyone’s life miserable, and Dayn’s life had been miserable enough.

  Falyn cupped more water into her hand, spilling it over Sheireadan’s purpled shoulders. “No sense worrying about it now. I’ll not come of age for two more years. Father can’t do anything until then anyway.”

  “I wouldn’t be so sure. He’s been known to bend the rules.”

  “Hmmph! I’d like to see him try to bend that one. It’s a mortal sin to wed before the proper time. Even he can’t override that law.”

  “Since when has morality stopped him?”

  “Let’s not talk about it anymore. There’s nothing we can do about it tonight, is there?” Falyn sighed and shook her head. “The bruises are really bad this time,” she said. “I’m sorry I got you into this.”

  “Nothing to be sorry about,” Sheireadan said. “I wish Father’d just hit me and leave the pit out of it though.”

  “At least I found a way to get you food and water. That’s something at least.”

  “If he ever catches us…”

  “He won’t.”

  “He will. And when he does, it will be the death of us. Well, the death of me anyway.”

  “Don’t say that,” Falyn said. “I would never let that happen. Never.”

  Sheireadan turned to face her. It made Dayn more than a little uncomfortable. But what Sheireadan said next made him even more so: “I did everything I could to keep Dayn away from you, Falyn. I don’t think I can keep Zared away from you, too. Dayn ran. Zared won’t.”

  “And you won’t either,” a voice boomed.

  Falyn’s and Sheireadan’s heads spun toward the voice. From out of the shadows a dark figure emerged, its hair and clothing so black, its face looked like that of a decapitated skull floating toward them.

  Falyn gasped. “Father…We were only—”

  “Save your breath, daughter,” Lorcan said. “It’s clear what you’re doing. You’re defying my orders.”

  “I made her come,” Sheireadan blurted. “We meant no disrespect.”

  “I’ll be the judge of that.”

  “I only came to take the healing. I—”

  “Who gave you permission?” Lorcan asked.

  “Father, please,” Falyn pleaded. “He’s hurt.”

  “Hurt?” Lorcan whipped his walking stick from beneath his cloak, slapping it against the palm of his hand. He laughed, a laugh so cruel it sent a chill down Dayn’s spine. He couldn’t imagine the fear it must be sending Falyn’s and Sheireadan’s way right now. How many times had they been forced to endure it over the years?

  “Out. Now,” Lorcan ordered.

  Falyn and Sheireadan hesitated, but then slowly worked their way to the edge of the pool. Sheireadan reached it first. Lorcan yanked him by an arm and pulled him out, flinging him to the ground. Sheireadan groaned and curled into a ball, hugging his ribs.

  Lorcan picked up Sheireadan’s clothes and tossed them on top of the huddled form at his feet. “Get dressed,” he said with disgust.

  Falyn clambered out of the pool, her skirt weighted with water and clinging to her legs. She shuffled over to Sheireadan, but her father grabbed her arm and jerked her away. “He will dress himself,” he said.

  “But Father, he can’t. He—” But the backside of Lorcan’s hand sent her sprawling.

  Dayn stepped around the pillar before he could think what he was doing. “Touch her again and I’ll kill you with my bare hands,” he said in a tone that even he did not recognize. He stood, hands fisted at his side, glaring at Lorcan with a rage so intense, he wondered if he truly possessed demon blood after all. Dayn’s legs felt like pudding quivering on a plate, but at least his words had come out sounding like those of a demon.

  If Lorcan’s expression had turned any darker it would have disappeared into an abyss void of color. All Dayn could see of the man were the whites of his eyes, but then a cruel flash of teeth sent a message of hatred across the spans of the pool. “Demon,” Lorcan hissed.

  “That’s right,” Dayn said, trying to sound as sinister as the creature he was facing. “Lay another hand on her and you’ll feel me tear your soul out by the roots.” Dayn forced his feet forward, slowly making his way around the perimeter of the pool. As he drew nearer, he kept his focus on Lorcan, knowing that Falyn was watching him, yet daring not a glance her way.

  He stopped within feet of her, and only then did he turn to her. He reached out a hand. “Are you hurt?” he asked.

  Her eyes darted to Lorcan, then back to Dayn. She shook her head. “No,” she said.

  “No you aren’t hurt, or no you won’t take my hand?” Dayn asked.

  Falyn looked at her father once more, her face awash with fear, but then, hesitantly, she reached up her hand to Dayn’s and took it.

  Dayn pulled her up gently and ushered her over to Sheireadan. “Help him get dressed,” he said. “It will be all right.” But he wasn’t so sure. Lorcan was watching him like a snake poised to strike, and Dayn didn’t know how much longer his own façade could last.

  “How dare you interfere,” Lorcan said, but he did not make a move to stop Falyn from assisting her brother, nor did he make any attempt to tighten the distance between him and Dayn.

  “Even a demon would not treat their own children so cruelly,” Dayn said.

  “You should know,” Lorcan replied.

  “Yes, I suppose I should.”

  Lorcan inclined his head toward Falyn and Sheireadan. “The disciplining of my children is my affair, not yours.”

  “Discipline? I wouldn’t call this discipline.”

  Lorcan’s nostrils flared. “I do what is necessary. Sin must be purged from their souls.”

  Dayn laughed. He could not help it. “Sin?” He laughed even harder.

  Lorcan’s face flushed with fury, all hesitation in Dayn’s regard tossed to the side. He raised his cane to strike, but from out of nowhere a hand grabbed his wrist, stopping it in midair.

  Haskel leaned his face to Lorcan’s ear. “Touch my kin,” he growled, “and ye’ll find a hundred clansmen at your door.”

  Lorcan glared at Haskel with an expression that went beyond hatred. “Your kin is interfering in my business.”

  Haskel glanced at Falyn, her lip swollen and bleeding, and Sheireadan, panting from fear and injury. “Ye call this business?”

  Lorcan’s eyes narrowed into slits. “Yes. My business. Now get your hand off of me, or you and your clansmen will be hearing from the Vestry.”

  Haskel stared at him a moment longer, then let go his hold. He turned to Dayn, without regard to the cane still clutched in Lorcan’s hand, and said, “Come, boy. We’re leavin’.”

  “But uncle, what of…” Dayn looked at Falyn and Sheireadan. “We can’t just leave them!”

&
nbsp; “I said we’re leavin’. Now.”

  Dayn opened his mouth to argue, but before he could utter a word, his uncle had grabbed him by the shoulders.

  Haskel forced Dayn’s gaze into his. “For their sakes, as well as yours,” he said, “we go—now.”

  Dayn knew there would be no debating it. He might have been able to hold his own with Lorcan for a time, but there would be no winning with Haskel. He felt himself suddenly spun around and shoved toward the woods where two horses waited. Dayn glanced over his shoulder at Falyn, but she had faded into the fog.

  Haskel handed Dayn the reins of one of the horses. Dayn hesitated. “But what will happen to Falyn and her brother?” he asked anxiously.

  Haskel did not answer.

  “Uncle, there must be something we can do!”

  “Not here.”

  Dayn watched his uncle’s face, searching for a sign of hope, but the man’s expression bore no sign of it. Dayn mounted the horse, then looked toward the pool one last time. All he could see was a blanket of mist, and the lingering image in his mind of Falyn being slapped to the ground by her father.

  “How can the Vestry condone Lorcan treating his children like that?” Dayn asked when they were some distance from the springs.

  “They don’t condone it. They simply turn a blind eye to it.”

  “Isn’t that the same thing?”

  Haskel drew a deep breath and released it slowly. “You’re too young to understand how things work.”

  “I understand more than you know.”

  Haskel raised an eyebrow. “Do ye?”

  “I have to help her,” Dayn insisted. “Maybe if we talked to the Vestry…told them how bad it was for her and—”

  “That we’ll not do!” Haskel barked. He steered his horse in front of Dayn’s, stopping him short. Haskel drew his already large frame into an even more impressive height. “We’ll not talk to the Vestry, Dayn. Not about this or anythin’ else.”