Souls of Aredyrah 1 - The Fire and the Light

by Tracy A. Akers

  “Marked somewhere,” Brina echoed. Her eyes moved to Dayn’s neck. “What is that?” She motioned toward the tiny cut.

  Dayn reached his hand and fingered the wound. It was beginning to scab and was not nearly so tender as it had been. He glanced at Reiv, not sure whether to tell the woman how he had come by it or not. He pulled his collar up over it and remained silent.

  Brina looked back at Reiv, clearly suspicious.

  “He attacked me, Brina,” Reiv blurted. “I had no choice!”

  “You cut him?” She took a step toward Dayn. “Here, let me see it.” She reached out her hand.

  Dayn stepped back. “No,” he said, “it’s all right.”

  Brina looked down at the bottle and brooch still clutched in her hand, then back at Dayn. An unreadable expression formed across her face. She took his hand in hers, pulling him gently. “Please, Dayn, there is nothing to fear. Let me take a look.”

  Dayn tried to remove his hand, but Brina squeezed it tight. He didn’t want to go with her, but something told him he should. He was led to the table where he stopped and waited. Brina stared into his face, scanning every detail.

  Reiv made a sudden move as though to intervene. Brina motioned him aside with a swipe of her hand.

  “Please, Dayn, I have to know,” she said.

  Dayn swallowed hard. “Know what?” he asked.

  Brina extended her hand toward Dayn’s neck, but he leaned just out of her reach. She paused, coaxing him with her eyes, eyes that looked so much like his. Brina’s fingers brushed against his neck and pushed aside his collar. Dayn held his breath, praying the examination would be over soon.

  Brina gasped and jerked back her hand as if she had been stung. There was a recent wound on Dayn’s neck, small and healing, but that was not where her eyes were focused; they were on the birthmark on the other side of it. She crumpled to the floor in a sobbing heap, crying out the word ‘Keefe’ as she wrapped her arms around Dayn’s legs.

  Dayn stared in horror at the hysterical woman now clinging to him. He peeled her from his limbs and pushed her away, then stumbled back and fell into Alicine who had rushed to his aid.

  Reiv charged over and knelt before Brina. She was staring up at Dayn as though in a daze, tears streaming down her face.

  “Brina! What is it?” Reiv cried. But all she would say between gulping breaths was “Keefe”.

  Brina rocked to and fro, both laughing and crying at the same time, seemingly oblivious to everyone but Dayn who was now quaking off to the side. Reiv took her by the shoulders and shook her. “Brina! Look at me! What is wrong?”

  “It is him!” she cried out, pointing a shaky finger at Dayn.

  “What did he do to you?” Reiv demanded, shooting Dayn an accusing glare.

  Dayn’s eyes darted between Brina and Reiv. Fear of Reiv’s potential for violence was being rekindled. He felt a sudden urge to run, but found his legs were no longer in his control.

  “Brina,” Reiv said, “did he harm you? Please, tell me.”

  “No,” she said, smiling through her tears. “Oh no, Reiv. He did not harm me.”

  “Come then, let us get you up.” He lifted her from the floor and guided her to the nearby bench. Once she was settled, he knelt on the floor and faced her.

  “Please, Brina. Tell me,” he said.

  She reached down and gathered his hands into hers. “Oh Reiv. He is back. My son is back.”

  Reiv pulled his hands away. “What—what do you mean?”

  “It is Keefe. My son has returned to me.” She gazed at Dayn, her face full of joy.

  “Think what you are saying, Brina. You have no son.”

  Her expression changed from joyful discovery to guilty knowledge. “Yes. I do. Sixteen years ago I had a son, a beautiful son, but he was marked, here,” she said, moving her fingers to her neck.

  “But your child died, Brina. It died at birth.”

  “No, he did not die. I saved him. I gave him to a god. He said he would remove the mark. He said he would return him to me. And now, here my boy stands, come back to me.”

  All eyes turned to Dayn, standing as though frozen, his face unable to hide the horror of the words Brina had spoken. His mind raced and his head grew dizzy. “No,” he whispered.

  Brina smiled, her belief evident, even if the truth was not. “Yes,” she said. “You are Keefe.”

  “No,” Dayn said, “I’m—”

  His tongue grew still as he struggled to make sense of it all. Yes, he had hoped to find his mother, but this woman was not she. Wouldn’t he know it if she were? Wouldn’t he feel it? The birthmark was a coincidence, nothing more. The events that had led him to this place could not have led him to his own mother, not as quickly as this. It was too impossible to even fathom. He looked at Brina, her face streaked with tears, yet radiant in the mistaken belief that she had found her long lost son. He felt sudden pity for her.

  “I’m sorry about your son,” he said, “but I’m not him.”

  Brina rose and made her way toward him, holding out the brooch.

  “You said your father gave you this. It was pinned to your clothing the day I gave you to the god. How did your father come by it?”

  Dayn gaped at the brooch. “He never said how he came by it. He just...”

  His mind suddenly became a whirlwind of thoughts, mixed-up images swirling in his head, confusing him, toying with him, drawing him into the deception of this strange woman who for some unknown reason wanted him for her son. Maybe she was a demon-witch, disguised by sorcery to conceal her true self from him. Maybe she had some evil intent for him, some wicked plan for his disposal. No, he did not belong to this woman. He did not belong in this place. He had to get out. He had to go home. He backed away.

  Brina reached out her arms to him. “Please, Keefe, my son, my child, I would never hurt you. I love you.”

  “Stay away from me,” he shouted. “I’m not your son. I’m not! I’m Dayn . . . Dayn!”

  But his voice was not his own.

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  Chapter 14: A Very Big Problem

  I’m Dayn, I’m Dayn, I’m Dayn. The words echoed over and over in his mind, pounding like a hammer inside his skull. Sweat poured down his face. He wiped his brow, then reached a hand to his collar. His eyes scanned the room. Where was he? What was he doing here? A tightness grabbed his belly—he remembered. That woman. The one with eyes like his. She had touched his neck. She said he was—

  “Keefe,” the woman said.

  Dayn shook his head. “This can’t be happening.”

  “Keefe, listen to me.”

  Dayn took a step back and glanced over at Alicine who was staring at him in stunned silence, then back at the woman who was approaching him with her arms extended.

  “No!” he cried. “Stay away from me!” He had trusted her. He had let her touch his neck. Then she had lied to him.

  He thrust out a warning hand. “I said stay back!”

  “Keefe . . . Dayn, please. Let me explain.”

  “Explain? Explain what? There’s nothing to explain.”

  “Yes, Dayn, there is.”

  I have to get out of here. I have to go home. I don’t belong here. Dayn swiveled his eyes toward the door, but realized there would be no escaping through it. Reiv was standing near it, too near. Dayn glanced to his right, then left. There was no place to go but back. He moved his feet in retreat, but suspected he was backing into a trap. Panic rushed through him as painful memories flooded his mind: memories of bullies, memories of a sword pressed to his throat, memories of lies—from his parents, from everyone.

  He twisted around and ran, but found himself stumbling into a shadowy maze. He stopped and turned in a slow circle. Dark corners. Mysterious shapes. Fluttering walls of gray. Which way? Which way? Dayn took a determined step forward, but it led to nowhere. He changed direction and snaked between a row of pots. A spindly plant latched onto his sleeve. He jerked his arm and sent it crashing to th
e floor. Too many obstacles. Trapped. Always trapped.

  “What is this place?” he screamed. He turned round and round, scanning the spinning room. Then he froze. There she was. The woman. Standing at the edge of the atrium, moonlight bathing her face in white.

  “Dayn, please don’t run.” She was begging now, pleading.

  “I have to run,” he whispered.

  A blur of dark braid and gold fabric rushed forward and planted itself in front of him. Alicine balled her fists, a murderous expression splashed across her face. A familiar scene, Dayn thought, his little sister, once again to the rescue. He ran his fingers nervously through his hair.

  Alicine shook her fist at Brina. “Lies!” she yelled. “Lies!”

  “No, girl, hear me,” Brina said.

  “He’s my brother, do you hear? He’s not your son!” Alicine took a threatening step toward the woman. “Don’t touch him,” she said between clenched teeth. “Don’t you dare!”

  Reiv rushed to Brina’s side and thrust out an arm to block her advancement. “Brina, stop! He cannot be your son. You must be mistaken.”

  Brina turned her face to Reiv. From the look in her eyes it was clear she had no doubt as to Dayn’s identity.

  Reiv directed his attention to Alicine who was still poised for battle. “Calm yourself,” he said with forced control. “Brina means your brother no harm.”

  “Why should I believe you?” Alicine snarled. “You’ve caused us nothing but misery ever since we met you.”

  He nodded. “Yes, but we need to get this sorted out, and Brina is the only one who can do it. Perhaps we should just quiet down and listen to what she has to say.”

  Reiv no longer had the face of the scowling boy who had forced them at sword point from the fields to this place. The mask of hostility was gone, replaced by an expression of concern for a woman who had lost her handle on reality. Whether Reiv’s suddenly calm exterior was sincere or not was difficult to determine, but Alicine lowered her fist nonetheless.

  Reiv placed a hand on Brina’s arm and motioned his eyes toward the kitchen. “If you and Alicine will wait at the table, I will talk to Dayn. There is some honey water in the jug there.”

  Brina smiled as though in agreement, then looked back at Dayn still transfixed in the atrium. Seeing her hesitation, Reiv said, “I will fetch him.”

  She nodded, then walked toward the kitchen. Alicine followed her reluctantly.

  Reiv took a deep breath and approached Dayn. “Come to the table, Dayn,” he said.

  “No!” Dayn said, and stepped back.

  “I will not hurt you.” Reiv said. He paused and turned up his palms. “See? No weapon.”

  Dayn glared at Brina across the way. “Well, lies hurt.”

  “I do not think she is lying. At least not in her own mind.”

  “I’m not her son. I’m not!”

  Reiv cocked his head. “Who are you then?”

  “Who am I?” Dayn hesitated, then scowled at Reiv, suddenly angry with the boy, or perhaps at himself, for the seeds of doubt sprouting in his mind. He lifted his chin. “I am Dayn.”

  “I know that,” Reiv said. “But is it possible you are something more?”

  “More? I—I don’t know.”

  “Well,” Reiv said, “we will not find out standing here, now will we?”

  Dayn looked at Reiv as though he had never seen him before. He had, in fact, certainly never seen this side of him. But what Reiv said did sound reasonable, and so Dayn took a small step toward him, and then another, and before long he was following him out of the maze and into the kitchen.

  They gathered at the table and sat silently, cups of sweetened water sitting untouched in front of them. Dayn sat at the farthest end of the bench from Brina and stared down at the table, daring not even a glance her way. Alicine placed herself between them, while Reiv sat on the opposite bench, facing the three like a judge before a court.

  For a long awkward moment there was only silence. Brina pulled a cup toward her and ran her finger round and round its rim. Finally she leaned around Alicine and looked at Dayn, trying in vain to meet his eyes. Then she said, “Dayn, I am sorry I frightened you. I know you have many questions.”

  Dayn lifted his gaze to her. “You’re not my mother.”

  Brina rose from the bench and walked a few steps from the table, her back to the group. She folded her hands in front of her. “There is much to tell, Dayn. Please promise you will listen.”

  “I’ll listen,” he grumbled. But he didn’t think he really wanted to hear.

  Brina turned to face them. “Sixteen years ago I bore a son. He was so beautiful. We named him Keefe. That means ‘cherished’, did you know that? That perfume bottle there,” she said, pointing to the counter where it now lay, “was a gift from Mahon. Mahon is my husband, Dayn. He is your . . . he was the father of my child.”

  Dayn looked down at the table, tracing the patterns of wood with his eyes. He hadn’t even thought about the father. A new cause for alarm grabbed his gut.

  Brina continued. “The bottle was an anniversary gift. Mahon gave it to me the year I carried our son inside of me. We had not been married long, only a year, and the gods blessed us quickly with a child. But he was marked, marked with a flower-shaped stain here.” She raised a finger to the left side of her neck.

  Dayn lifted his hand and covered the birthmark clumsily with his fingers. He could feel everyone’s eyes staring at him, at it. He had never considered the mark to be of any consequence before. No one in Kirador had ever cared about it; there were too many other things about him to be concerned with. But here the mark seemed to mean everything.

  Tears welled in Brina’s eyes. “Mahon would not accept it. No one would have, of course, but I fought against the inevitable.”

  “The inevitable?” Reiv asked.

  “The Will of Agneis,” she said.

  “The Will of Agneis?” Reiv said, shocked. “No, Brina, surely not. That only happens to people who are—”

  “Inferior?” she said, completing the sentence for him. “Reiv, the Will of Agneis can happen to anyone. I am of superior blood, but my child was marked. According to Temple law, his fate was sealed.”

  “What is the Will of Agneis?” Alicine asked.

  “When a child is born impure,” Brina said, “it must be disposed of. Usually that means taken out into the wild and left to fate. It is written as law, but few speak of it.”

  Alicine gasped and lowered her eyes. She did not ask any more questions.

  “Gods, Brina,” Reiv said, “I never realized. How could you do it?”

  Brina walked over to him and looked him in the eye. “Reiv, you of all people should understand the value placed on physical beauty here.”

  Reiv winced and slid his hands to his lap.

  She continued. “Reiv, you asked how I could do it. Well, the truth is I could not. But my choices were few, so I made a plan to save my child. I told Mahon—I told everyone—that I would do what had to be done, that I would allow no one else to do it. I left the next morning, taking only a handmaiden with me. But I did not go where they thought I would.”

  “You went to the cave instead,” Dayn said.

  “Yes, Dayn, yes!” Brina rushed to his side and knelt down beside him. “I took you to the forbidden mountain to find the gods. To beg them to cure you.”

  “But you left me—I mean—you left the child there.” His voice sounded pitiably small.

  “Yes, but with a god, Dayn! A god who promised to remove the mark. Hear me Dayn. I could not let you die by the Will of Agneis or otherwise. I could not!”

  “But you did not go back.”

  “Oh, Dayn, of course I went back. I went back for you the next year, and the next, and the next, and every year after that, just as the god instructed. But he did not bring you. He never brought you.”

  Dayn shook his head. “This can’t be true.”

  Brina rose and grabbed the perfume bottle. “The gifts, Dayn! You
saw the gifts. You said so! Look—the perfume bottle.” She held it out to him. “It was a gift, for you, so you would remember me. Every year I brought gifts: blankets, clothes, toys, tokens. I brought them all for you.”

  “Maybe you did give your son away in the cave,” he said, “but that doesn’t prove I’m that son. Besides, I still have the mark, see?” He pulled back the collar, revealing the birthmark to her once more. “The mark’s still there. No god took me. No god cured me.”

  Alicine rose from the bench and moved away, standing with her back to the others. She had remained unusually quiet during the entire conversation, asking few questions and offering no comments. “I think she speaks the truth, Dayn,” she said softly.

  Dayn cocked his head. “What are you saying, Alicine?”

  “I think she speaks the truth,” she said, turning to face him.

  Dayn rose. “How could you know whether she speaks the truth or not?”

  “Because of what Father said.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Remember I told you how I sneaked up and listened when Father and Mother went to Eileis’s, when we all went looking for you?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, I overheard Father admit he let the demon-witch think he was a god.”

  “He said that?”

  “Yes.”

  “Those very words?”

  “Yes, Dayn, he said them.”

  Dayn felt the truth come crashing down upon him like the rocks that had rained upon them in the cave. One by one the beliefs he held dear, as well as all his doubts and fears, tumbled around him. “Demon spawn,” he whispered.

  “What?” Alicine asked.

  “Demon spawn. That’s what the boys used to call me. How could they have done such a thing?”

  “They were only cruel boys,” Alicine said.

  “No, I mean our parents! I knew I was not their real child, but it was their lies I hated more than anything. And now to find out that I was stolen...” Dayn began to pace, playing old questions and new answers over and over in his mind.

  “Mother lost many babies in childbirth before we were— before we came,” Alicine said. “Maybe Father was desperate.”