White

by Ted Dekker

  His enemy. Woref? Or Teeleh? Thomas stood clumsily, his feet charged with an urgency to get back to the campfire. “I will! I swear I will.”

  Justin just stared at him. “She’s waiting,” he finally said.

  The look in Justin’s eyes as much as adrenaline pushed Thomas into a sprint. He stopped after five paces and spun back. “What . . .”

  But Justin was gone.

  Tears ran down Thomas’s cheeks. It was too much. He couldn’t stop the terrible sorrow that crashed over him. He turned and ran down the canyon, around the boulder, and straight for the campfire.

  Chelise looked up, startled. But he was beyond trying to bring reason to what was happening between them.

  He dropped to his knees beside her. “I’m sorry. Please, forgive me. I had no right to leave you!”

  She looked at him without understanding, without a hint of softening. But now as he stared into her white eyes, he saw something new.

  He saw Justin’s bride. The one Elyon had chosen for Justin.

  Grief swallowed Thomas whole and sobs began to wrack his body. He closed his eyes, lifted his chin, and began to weep.

  He put his hand on her knee. Chelise didn’t move.

  He couldn’t process his thoughts with any logic, but he knew that he was weeping for her. For the tragedy that had befallen her. For this disease that separated them.

  The night seemed to echo with his sobs. He removed his hand from her knee. For every cry, there was another, as if the Roush had joined in his great lament.

  He caught his breath and listened. Not the Roush, Chelise. Chelise was crying. She’d drawn her knees to her chest and was sobbing quietly.

  All thoughts of his own sorrow vanished. Her whole body shook. She had one arm over her face, but he could see her mouth open, straining with her sobs. He sat frozen. He began to cry softly—the pain of this sight was worse than his earlier sorrow.

  “What have I done? You don’t understand. I love you!”

  “No!” she moaned loudly.

  He scrambled to his knees and reached out for her. But he was afraid to touch her.

  “I do love you! I didn’t mean . . .”

  Chelise shoved herself up and glared at him. “You can’t love me!” she shouted. “Look at me!” She slapped her face. “Look at my face! You can never love me!”

  Thomas grabbed her hand. “You’re wrong.” He lifted her hand and kissed it gently.

  She was acutely aware of his hand tightly holding hers. His breath washing over her as he declared his insensible love.

  The shame of her white flesh had come over her like a slowly moving shadow from the setting sun. She’d been aware of it back in the library, but only as a distant thought. She’d considered it more carefully after hearing Thomas point it out to Suzan last night.

  She was diseased. But she told herself that she would rather live diseased than die by drowning.

  Then she’d met the albinos and watched them prepare their small feast. Listening to them talk around the campfire, she couldn’t shake her desire to be like these people. Life in the castle was like a prison next to the love they shared so easily.

  She knew that her skin offended them, no matter what they said. When Suzan had told her that she had beautiful eyes, knowing full well that they believed her eyes were diseased, the last of her self-assurance had fallen to rubble. She realized then that she could never be like these people. Never be like Thomas.

  Worse, she realized that he was right when he said that she wanted to be loved by him. She did want to love him.

  Yet she could never bring herself to drown. And without the drowning, she could never be truly loved by him. So then, there was no hope.

  You hold my hand, Thomas, but could you ever kiss me? Could you ever love me as a woman longs to be loved? How can you love a woman who repulses you?

  Thomas had grown quiet. He put his arm around her shoulders and pulled her closer. She let her sobs run dry.

  “You are beautiful to me,” he said softly.

  She couldn’t bear the words. But she didn’t have the will to resist them, so she let her silence speak for itself.

  “Please . . . I’m dying.”

  You feel sorry that the woman in your arms doesn’t have smooth skin? That she sickens you?

  Chelise raised her head to voice her thoughts. His face was there, only inches from hers, wet with tears. The fire lit his green eyes. She was breathing on him, but he made no effort to draw back.

  This simple realization was so profound, so surprising, that she lost her train of thought. His eyes gazed at her longingly, drawing her in. Such deep, intoxicating eyes. This was Thomas, commander of the Guard, the man who had fallen madly in love with her and risked his life to rescue her from a beast who would have savaged her.

  How could he love her?

  She closed her eyes. She could never satisfy such a beautiful man. His love was born out of pity, not true attraction. He could never . . .

  His finger traced her cheek, effectively stopping her heart.

  “Since the first time we were together in the library, I’ve loved you,” he said. He touched her lips with his fingers. “If only you will allow me to love you.”

  His words washed over her like a fresh, warm breeze. She opened her eyes and knew immediately that he was speaking the truth.

  She slowly lifted her hand. Touched his temple, where his skin was the smoothest. Chelise couldn’t bear the tension any longer. She put her hand around his neck and pulled his face down. His soft lips smothered hers in a warm, passionate kiss.

  She felt a stab of fear, but he pulled her tighter. Then she gave herself up and let him kiss her longer. His mouth was sweet and his tears felt warm on her cheeks.

  His hands brushed her hair back and he kissed her nose and her forehead. “Tell me that you love me,” he said. “Please.”

  “I love you,” Chelise said.

  “And I love you.”

  He kissed her on the lips again, and Chelise knew then that she did love this man.

  She was in love with Thomas of Hunter, commander of the Guard, leader of the Circle who had loved her first.

  31

  Thomas rose early, filled with an energy he hadn’t felt for many months. The sun was smiling on the horizon; canyon larks sang from the cliff; a morning breeze whispered through his hair.

  The Great Romance filled his mind. He understood now. This love he felt for Chelise was tantamount to the love that Justin felt for everyone whom he would woo, diseased or not. The realization was dizzying.

  Chelise still slept in her bedroll beside him. He’d found his way past her disease and kissed the woman beneath. He’d stepped past the skin of this world and stepped into another, not unlike what he did when he dreamed.

  Yes, Chelise was as disease-ridden as ever. Yes, he could taste the bitterness on her breath. Yes, he would give anything to lead her into the red pool and see her forever changed. But he loved her anyway. And he loved her desperately.

  He leaned over and kissed her cheek. “Wake up, my love.”

  Her eyes batted open. He kissed her again. “Did you dream of me?”

  She smiled. “As a matter of fact, I did. You?”

  “No dreams, remember?”

  She sat up and gazed at the others. Johan was stirring. They’d fallen asleep before the others had returned from their walks. Chelise looked unsure. He would settle that soon enough.

  He stood and clapped his hands. “Let’s go, everybody. We have a long way to go today.”

  They stirred from their dreams and sat up.

  “Where are we going?” Chelise asked.

  “To the tribe. If it’s okay with you, that is. Or would you rather send a message to your father?”

  She pushed herself to her feet and brushed sand from her cloak. “They won’t bite my head off?”

  “Not if they expect to live the day.”

  “Then I suppose I could manage.”

  Only Tho
mas and Chelise wore the Horde garments—the rest had traded them for the tan tunics worn by the Circle.

  They cleaned the camp quickly and prepared to leave. Thomas saddled his horse and walked toward Chelise, who was working with her mount. He spoke loudly enough for all of them to hear.

  “I don’t know where you found those rabbits, Johan, but I insist you find more like them for our celebration tonight. There was something in the meat.”

  Mikil looked at him. “And what are we celebrating this time?”

  Thomas put his hand on Chelise’s neck and drew her close. “Love,” he said and kissed her gently on her lips.

  The others were as surprised as Chelise.

  “Love it is,” Johan said, glancing at Suzan.

  Thomas winked at Chelise, who smiled sheepishly. It would take her more time to feel at ease in their company, but Thomas would remove any obstacles.

  They rode south into the desert. Normally a journey through the hot dunes would be a quiet, plodding affair, but not this one. They settled into three pairs with Johan and Suzan leading. Thomas and Chelise trailed behind Mikil and Jamous. The hours didn’t pass slowly enough for them to plumb the depths of their experiences and theories. But with each passing mile Thomas felt his love for the woman who rode beside him grow.

  He had a hard time keeping his eyes off her. Fortunately, there were no cliffs to ride off, or he might have. She rode like a warrior, straddling the saddle, and she had a habit of resting one leg at a time across her steed’s shoulder. When he pointed out the cleverness of her riding posture, the others just looked at him with blank stares. To Thomas it was brilliant, though he tried it himself without much success.

  She also kept her head up as she rode, chin level, like only a princess could, he thought.

  Midday they came to the Oasis of Plums, as the Horde had named it. Chelise excused herself and bathed. When she emerged around the plum trees, Thomas had to look twice to be sure it was her. She’d washed her black hair and applied an oil that made it shine. Flowers again, and the scented morst, but she’d also applied a blue powder under her eyebrows and to her lips. She wore gold earrings and a matching band around her neck. She might have stepped out of the histories’ ancient Egypt.

  Thomas immediately hurried over to her, took her hands, and declared that she was stunning. The others agreed. And this time, he thought, they actually meant it.

  That afternoon they rode six abreast and reminisced about the colored forest. The Roush, the fruit, the lake, the tall colored trees. Chelise asked a hundred questions, like a child first learning that the world was round.

  Try as they did, they couldn’t find rabbits for a feast that night, but Mikil found two large snakes, which they filleted and roasted over the coals. The meat was sweet and satisfying. Chelise and Johan showed them how to dance, Horde-style, and then Suzan led them in a Circle dance. They debated the merits of each and laughed till their sides hurt.

  Johan and Mikil urged Thomas to dream, but he insisted that another night without knowing what was happening with Carlos wouldn’t hurt any of them. For all he knew, he’d been sleeping for only a few minutes in the other reality, and he wasn’t interested in interrupting his romance with Chelise. For that matter, he might consider eating the rhambutan forever and never dreaming of the virus again.

  They broke camp the next morning and resumed their journey south. The tribe was camped four hours away—they would arrive before noon.

  “You’re sure they’ll understand?” Chelise asked.

  “Of course, they will. You aren’t the first.”

  “This is entirely different. I’m not coming to drown.”

  Thomas glanced at the others. “They’ll get used to the idea. A day may come when you’re more comfortable with the drowning.”

  “No. I’m the daughter of Qurong, princess of the Horde. I have my limits. It’s one thing to fall in love with an albino and make friends with the Circle; it’s another thing to become an albino.”

  She could not know how painful her words were. They hadn’t spoken of what would become of their love, but they both knew that some things were irreconcilable. The Horde would never accept peace with the Circle, not while Qurong was their leader and Woref led their forces. And Chelise couldn’t expect to be princess of the Horde while living with the Circle.

  Chelise looked over at him. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that. You know that I love you.”

  “And you know that I love you.” He winked at her. “That’s all that matters.”

  “A rider!” Suzan pulled up.

  Thomas followed her gaze to the south. A plume of dust rose from a lone rider charging hard toward them.

  “Is he from our tribe?” Mikil asked.

  “He must be. The next closest tribe is a hundred miles from here.”

  Thomas slapped his horse’s rump. “Let’s go!”

  They galloped out to meet the rider.

  “It’s Cain!” Suzan shouted, leaning low over her mount. “There’s trouble.”

  Cain reined in hard. His eyes were bloodshot. “Thomas . . .” He glanced at Chelise and back. His horse snorted and sidestepped. “The village was attacked. My brother’s dead with nine others. They took half of us before we could escape.”

  “Slowly, man! Who attacked?” But Thomas knew who. “When?”

  “The Horde . . . a division, at least, last night. William sent me out to bring back Johan.”

  “William’s in command? Who was taken?”

  “Yes, William. The Horde took twenty-four trapped in one of the canyons. Men, women, children. They caught us without mounts in the middle of the night.”

  Alarm flooded Thomas’s veins. “My son and daughter?”

  “They’re safe.”

  His heart eased.

  “William is still at the camp?”

  “A mile east.”

  Thomas spurred his horse. “Cain, follow as fast as you can.” Their horses were fresh, and they would outrun Cain. “Let’s ride!”

  “Thomas!”

  He looked back and saw that Chelise sat on her steed, stricken with fear. “We’ll catch you,” he called to Mikil. They galloped ahead.

  Thomas swung around and drew up beside her. “This changes nothing.”

  “There’s more, Thomas,” Cain said.

  Thomas reached out and put his hand on Chelise’s neck. “You’re with me, my love. Nothing will happen to you, I swear it.”

  She hesitated. The Horde would want to retaliate. She was assuming the same about the tribe, despite all she’d seen.

  “Trust me, Chelise.”

  “Okay.”

  Thomas glanced at Cain. “What more?”

  Cain stared at them, eyes round.

  “Well, what?” Thomas demanded, pulling his horse around.

  “William will tell you.”

  He glared at the man. They had no time for this. “Let’s go!”

  32

  They found the tribe’s camp first. What was left of it. The canvas tents had been shredded by swords. Pots and pans were scattered, cots smashed, chickens and goats slaughtered and left to rot.

  Several large bloodstains marked the spots where some of the ten had been slain. The bodies were probably with William, awaiting cremation, as was their custom.

  Thomas led the others through the camp, sickened. At times like these he wondered if their policy of nonviolence was worthless. Hadn’t Justin himself once engaged in battle?

  He set his jaw and rode slowly, keeping his anger in check. With a single sword he could take down twenty of the Scabs, but that was no longer who he wanted to be.

  “Find them, Suzan,” he ordered. Cain still hadn’t caught up.

  She took a trail that led to the cliffs above the canyon and sped east. They trotted through the canyon below her, waiting for her signal.

  No one spoke. They each knew every tribe member as part of a family. Now ten of them had been killed and twenty-four taken captive.
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  He looked at Chelise, who drew her hood around her face and watched him tentatively. He wanted to tell her it was okay, that they would round the next bend to discover that it had all been a mistake.

  A whistle cut through the air. “She’s found them,” Mikil said.

  What remained of the tribe was hunkered down in a wash, one mile east, as Cain had said. Thomas saw them while they were still two hundred yards out. He slowed his horse and studied the lay of the land.

  They had four escape routes in the event of a second attack, however unlikely it was at this point. From their position, all the surrounding cliffs were in clear view. William had chosen well.

  “Thomas.” Chelise’s voice was small. “What’s going to happen?”

  He reached out and took her hand as they rode with the others. “Nothing’s going to happen. We will mourn our loss and find a new camp. They are with Elyon now.”

  “And to me?”

  “You’re with me. They will embrace you. Your enemy’s Woref, not the Circle.”

  William waited for them with Suzan and several men. The survivors, roughly twenty, were gathered behind them, some prostrate in mourning, others seated quietly, a few studying the surrounding cliffs for any sign of trouble.

  Samuel and Marie ran out, and Thomas dropped to hug them. They were used to running from the Horde, but their wide eyes betrayed a new fear.

  “Thank Elyon.”

  “I’m afraid, Papa,” Marie said.

  He held her tight. “No need. We are in Justin’s hands.” He clasped his son’s shoulder. “Thank you for seeing to your sister. You’re a strong one, Samuel.”

  “Yes, Father.”

  Thomas remounted and nudged his horse on. The tribe seemed relieved to see them. All except for William. He stood his ground like a man receiving a rebellious son. Johan and Mikil dismounted and hurried past William to console those who mourned.

  “That’s far enough, Thomas,” William snapped.

  There was trouble here. “It’s okay, Chelise,” he said quietly, squeezing her hand.

  “That’s where you’re wrong,” William said. “I see you’ve collected your Scab. How considerate of you to bring this trouble on us.”