He looked at her, then back at Ira, realizing his error. He swallowed in the silence that followed.
Ava gave me a look that meant now would be a good time to do something.
Like I had a clue. There wasn’t exactly a situation from my past, or from anyone’s past for that matter, that I could draw on for guidance.
So, I did what I usually did when I was unsure. I backed my friends and let the pieces fall where they may. They had the right of it in my mind anyway. Why should a baby suffer when it had no control over its situation?
“Benami, you and your wife agreed that she would provide food for this child as long as he needed it. There was no stipulation that the child had to pass a test first to determine if it was worthy of your wife’s teats.”
“Well, I’m reneging on our agreement then,” said Benami, chin in the air.
The way he said it, only angered me more. “After all we’ve done for you? After all the times you, your wife, and your son could have died had we not been around? This is your attitude?”
“Look, we’re very appreciative of what you and your friends did for us. For everyone. And if there was anything else we could do, I would do it. But not this.”
“We’re talking about a baby’s life,” I barked.
“There’s an alternative. At least in the short term,” Reuma said while casting Hila a dirty look. “If she doesn’t want him at her breast, she could express the milk into a bowl first. Then we soak a rag and let the baby suck on it to get the nourishment it needs.”
“What about it?” I asked Benami. “It isn’t ideal for the baby, but better than nothing.”
He frowned and began discussing the option with Hila as if even that was too much of a hassle for them. Old anger crept into my veins watching them. The hate and judgment I dealt with after being discharged came back to me, as did the stories of what happened to Lasha and my kids.
I had enough of people like Benami and his wife.
I drew my sword and pointed it at his throat. Gasps sounded.
“Uh, Big Brother . . .”
“I’m handling this.”
“I’m sure there are—”
“Other ways? Maybe. But this is my way. Hila, you will go sit somewhere private with Reuma and either take that baby to your breast or do the alternative with the bowl. If you refuse to do either of those things or harm the child in any way, I will open your husband up, right here and now.”
“Pa?” came a shout.
I glanced to my left and saw their young boy looking in our direction.
“Everything’s all right, son,” said Benami nervously. “Adults talking.”
“Dinah, get their son out of here and keep him calm,” I said.
She left quickly with him.
Benami hissed at me. “What is the matter with you? You can’t be serious.”
“Ava?”
“My brother doesn’t draw his sword for show.”
The new situation registered to Hila. “But why me? Sure I said I would do it. But I’m not even the child’s mother.” She jabbed a finger in the direction of Chana. “Tell her to do it.”
“I would, but there’s a problem with that. The baby repulses her more than it does you, not for just what it is, but in how it was created.”
“Then threaten her.”
“With what? Her life? That would be useless since she’s expressed her desire to die already. No, it is you and you alone. Make your decision.”
There was a pause as husband and wife looked at each other. That pause made me dislike them both even more. If Lasha was in Hila’s shoes the decision to save me would have been instantaneous. However, Lasha would have never denied a child, even one in this condition, nourishment.
Hila took a reluctant step forward. I almost said a prayer in thanks to Molak. I had not wanted to follow through with my threat. In truth, I didn’t know if I could.
She paused as a hand rested on my shoulder.
I jerked my gaze to a watery eyed, Ira. “Lower your sword, Ty. It’s over.”
The baby lay still in Ira’s arms held tight to his chest. Its faint breathing had stopped.
“He died?”
He nodded then walked away while still cradling the child against his bosom.
Reuma followed him and the two sat in a corner with heads down. Though the boy’s life wasn’t long and filled with pain and hate, I hoped he felt some sort of love from the two of them at least.
Ava cleared her throat. I met her eyes and she gestured to my sword. It was still aimed at Benami’s throat.
I lowered it, aware more than ever of the eyes staring at me. I hated what I saw. To some in the cave, I had become someone cruel and punishing.
Maybe they were right.
Those glancing toward me with fear would wonder when I’d decide to throw my weight around again.
“Go,” I told Hila and Benami.
Nothing more needed to be said for nothing would change what had occurred.
CHAPTER 37
The mood in our cave worsened considerably in the days that followed. Two groups formed, those who had supported my actions, and those who did not. The groups literally split the cave down the middle, each huddling on opposite walls. I was surprised at how many stood by me. I don’t think they exactly agreed with my choice in handling Hila and Benami, but for whatever reason they understood.
Perhaps I hadn’t given them enough of the credit they deserved.
I tried to bridge the gap between the sides more than once, but any effort fell flat.
The mood worsened when Reuma discovered Chana’s lifeless body two days later. She had sliced open her wrists, bleeding out in the night.
I felt saddened by the loss, but more angry than sad.
Four men had given their lives to save her and her child. Neither mother nor son lived, and the turmoil they had caused had me second-guessing my decision to save her in the first place.
We buried Chana in a shallow grave in the back of the cave. A tiny, secondary grave rested beside her. The priest of Molak said some final words for both. They seemed fitting despite what little we knew of either.
Ira and Reuma were the last to leave the grave.
If there was a positive that came out of Chana’s labor and delivery, it was that those two had bonded. In fact, they were practically inseparable now.
CHAPTER 38
The next day I was shaken awake, but not by someone’s hand.
The clicking of pebbles rolling down the cave’s walls reached my ears. I sat up fast, shouting for others to rise.
Many were already halfway there. The rest came about quickly with the rumbling and the trembling floor.
People scrambled to their feet. Everyone looked my way for guidance, even those who just yesterday wanted nothing to do with me. I guess I was worthy of their time when their lives were on the line.
“Everyone out!” I shouted.
People hesitated. No one wanted to leave the protection of the cave for what they had seen of the outside world, even if the cave was no longer a safe place to be.
“What about the artifact?” someone asked.
“Get out! Cave in!”
Someone yelled in excitement near the entrance. “The storm stopped!”
Chunks of rock fell from the ceiling, shattering as they struck the ground.
“Go! Now!” I yelled.
Some took off with only the clothes on their backs. Others grabbed the hands of a loved one or the belongings nearest them before running outside. The more selfless individuals aided the injured. A select few I had to literally push toward the cave opening as they tried to carry every last one of their meager possessions outside.
Two of those were struck by falling stone. One died instantly. The other suffered a large gash and a dislocated elbow. Ava and I helped drag him out.
We ran, stumbled, and slid down the rocky slope from the cave mouth that led to the valley. The slope was still slick from days of rain. Bala
nce was impossible with the ground swaying and stones stampeding down the hillside around us. Our feet slipped and our ankles buckled over the rain-soaked ground. I wrenched my injured shoulder, trying to keep the wounded man moving.
Everyone ran for the center of the valley, the farthest point from falling rock. Those in the other cave did the same. In the chaos, I tried to spot my kids, but had no luck.
I rushed into the mire where days of water had turned the valley into deep, sucking mud. I strained with every step, casting a nervous glance back to the gathering rockslide. People around me flailed, some screaming for help as they lost balance.
The trembling ceased.
Stuck in mud, while our cave and several others collapsed around us, I briefly examined the new world. It was my first venture into daylight in nearly two weeks.
Well, it wasn’t really daylight. At least not what passed for daylight a couple of months ago. No bright yellow sunlight reflecting off green grass and vibrant flowers. Not even the orange hue that had followed the second eruption. Gray, gray, and more gray with hints of black and white littered the valley under a muted white glow from above.
There was something new to the air though. It was hard to explain, but the air just seemed thicker, almost like a humid summer day.
I temporarily lost interest in my surroundings as Zadok shouted, “Pa!”
I spun and saw him and Myra high-stepping through mud toward me. I met them and took both in my arms, wincing at the ache in the skin on my back.
“What’s wrong?” asked Myra.
“The burns still aren’t completely healed.”
They both let go.
“I’m sorry,” said Zadok.
“It’s fine. Really. The pain was more than worth it,” I said, mindful that something was suddenly in my eye. I wiped the tear away quickly and continued. “I’m mostly recovered anyway.” I paused and touched the spot where my ear used to be. “The only thing that truly hurts is the blow to my ego.”
“I think it gives you character,” said Myra.
“I think it makes you look like someone you don’t want to mess with,” said Zadok.
I smiled and gave a wink. “Well, that’s a trait that it never hurts to have.”
I pulled away from the hugs and looked them over. Even with mud up to their thighs and dirt everywhere else, I noticed the difference in their appearances.
“You’ve both lost weight,” I said.
“Everyone in our cave has,” said Myra.
I looked around at the others and saw it was true. “What happened?”
“We had a cave-in several days back. It killed five people, and buried a lot of our supplies. Sivan put everyone on quarter rations not knowing when things would clear up and it would be safe to go outside,” said Myra.
“Smart move.”
“It didn’t go over well. A couple people challenged Sivan’s right to lead our group since you weren’t around. Being hungry, people wanted to vote for someone new.”
“It got ugly,” added Zadok.
I asked. “How did it get resolved?”
Myra answered. “After listening to an hour of arguing, Dekar stood and said that Sivan was in charge because you would have wanted it to be so. He said that anyone who had an issue with Sivan could leave the cave. Fromel challenged Sivan anyway, so Dekar threw him outside. Dekar let him back in only after he apologized. Fromel was covered in welts and bruises from the hail.”
“No one brought the matter up again after that,” Zadok said.
I snorted. “Everyone thinks Ira is the one to worry about because he’s loud, but there’s a reason it took Ira over thirty years to stand up to his brother. You don’t want to get on Dekar’s bad side.”
I saw Myra looking around, frowning. “I see that you lost several people too,” she said.
“Yes.”
“Chana?”
“Took her own life.”
She gasped. “But the baby—”
“She took her life a couple of days after the baby was born. It died shortly after birth.”
“That must have been awful.”
I looked around and saw judging eyes of certain people from our group as they mingled with those from the other cave. Soon, everyone would know what happened.
“It was . . . difficult to say the least.”
A couple of sidelong glances swept my way. One or two were followed by a whispered exchange. I had a hunch the difficulties would continue as more people were forced to pick a side in my decision.
I thought about making a case for my actions to those who weren’t there. But in the end, I decided that if they didn’t already understand my choices, they probably never would.
“What do we do next?” asked Sivan slogging his way up through the mud.
Damaris was at the former tailor’s side.
Boaz and his family approached too. Nason and his kids were coming from the opposite direction with Dekar, Ira, and Reuma. All struggled in the slop the ground had become.
That accounted for those I was closest to.
I watched Rezub maneuver his way through the muck, speaking with those who had been in my group. Once he got wind of what happened, he could probably sway enough of those who disagreed with my actions to band together and cause problems.
I didn’t want trouble. Not for my friends and family. And not for those who supported me over Chana’s baby. Only one thing would prevent trouble from happening because of me.
“I think it’s time we part ways with everyone else. If we stay, if I stay actually, I’m worried that people will start fighting amongst themselves on my behalf. I don’t want that.”
Oddly enough, no one questioned why I would make the call. Either they understood, or simply trusted my judgment.
“Sky is pretty clear,” I continued. “You feel anything odd from the artifact, Ava?”
She shook her head. “No. I think the eruption is over.”
“Then we should gather our supplies and get going.”
“We lost so much in the cave-in that many of us have only what’s on our backs or belts,” said Dekar.
I noted that amounted to little more than clothes, weapons, and a few odds and ends.
I tried to make light of the situation. “Well, we should make better time with less to carry.”
And I did mean carry. Not one of the wagons survived the chaos brought on by the artifact’s third eruption.
I turned to Ira. “You and Reuma go find us a couple of mounts among those that survived.”
“How many?” he asked
I was tempted to say enough for everyone if that many were available. But I decided I could not be cruel to those we planned to leave behind. “Three. Two for riding. One as pack animal. But hurry, we really need to get moving.”
They set off toward the cave where the surviving animals remained.
“You don’t really think people would try to—” Zadok started.
“I don’t know what they would try to do, son. But it’s better if we leave on our terms before trouble starts. C’mon, let’s go get our share of the remaining supplies.”
We sloughed our way over to the pile of supplies brought out from the caves. Mud popped and squished with each step. All of us moving in one direction at the same time warranted quite a few looks, ending many a conversation among the others.
“Uh, Tyrus?” Nason said low as he noticed those looks himself.
I could guess at the questions probably running through his mind.
“Just act natural. You and your kids find some rope and a couple of blankets or canvas if you can.” I paused besides the gear. “Ava, you and Myra start gathering up food. Be reasonable. Zadok, see if you can find any feed for the animals out here in case Ira and Reuma aren’t able to secure much from the cave. Boaz, you and Dinah grab some water skins and get them filled.” Something caught my eye and I pointed. “That barrel too. We’ll strap it down to one of the horses. Sivan, why don’t you and Damaris gi
ve them a hand with that.”
While everyone went about the task I had given them, I sifted through the rest of the stuff hauled out from the caves for anything that might be of use.
It didn’t take long for our activity to warrant the reaction I expected. Rezub was soon at my side.
He cleared his throat in that loud, over-exaggerated way people do when trying to get someone’s attention, the way that sounded anything but natural and was completely condescending to the person someone wanted to speak with.
I hated that.
No one could convince me that it was simpler to rattle some incoherent noise around the back of the throat when that person could just speak up.
He made that noise again and louder after I ignored his first attempt.
I asked without turning to face him. “Something on your mind?”
“Just wondering what you’re doing? It looks like you’re getting ready to leave without the rest of us.”
I paused and turned. “Thought that might be for the best.”
“We’d rather you didn’t.”
I narrowed my eyes. “We? You sure about that? I know a lot of people aren’t too fond of what I did to Hila and Benami. I’m sure a few aren’t too appreciative of what Dekar did to Fromel as well.”
“Many aren’t. But not everyone. Even those who disagree with what you did, recognize they would struggle to make it on their own. They might not agree with your decision or even like you very much after what happened, but the alternative is a much scarier proposition.”
“And you?”
“Who do you think just convinced all those people to put their anger aside?”
I looked to those of my friends and family nearby. My kids. Then Ava. Then Nason. None said anything. The decision was mine. As usual.
It would have been nice to let someone else take charge for once.
Part of me wanted to say no. Actually, a lot of me did. I was tired of all the ups and downs in the mood of our group.
However, my wife’s voice was in the back of my mind, as ever, reminding me that staying was the right thing to do.
“All right,” I said to Rezub. “Get everyone moving.”
* * *
Wayward Soldiers Page 27
