Dawn of the Valiant (The Valerious Chronicles: Book One)
Page 17
By the time the sun had set and the cold chill of the night had settled in, the brothers were in great pain. The burden of dragging the heavy corpse through the desert, combined with the injuries that they had sustained in the fight had taken a horrible toll on them. Thibalt's side had proven more severe than he had believed and had now taken a turn for the worse. It continued to open and bleed from their constant movement.
Christill's own injuries were sapping the strength from him step by step and the bite marks on his leg had now begun to burn intensely. They were still a full day's hike from Hamal and were beginning to wonder if they could make it with the heavy carcass. To compound matters the Irian was beginning to emit the foulest of odours as it rotted in the heat.
"Do you think that anyone else has already returned successfully?" Christill asked as they sat down to rest that night.
"I would be very surprised if anyone has. It is an almost impossible task and I am still finding it hard to believe that we survived our little adventure. I wonder if any of the others have even seen one. Who knows, some of them might be dead."
Christill shrugged his shoulders. "Oh well, why should we care?" he said spitefully.
After a moment Thibalt replied. "I understand why you hate them so much, Christill, but it does not do to dwell on it."
"They will continue to hate me and I will continue to hate them. Why should I stop? All they have ever done is hate me. I am never accepted into anything that they do, whereas you are accepted as one of their own."
"I am more tolerated because I try to be. Don't think it's easier for me to live amongst them than it is for you. I know that they do not truly accept me, but I make do with the lot that I have been given in life," Thibalt retorted. He realised that much of Christill's hatred still stemmed from the loss of Siri and wished that he could somehow console his brother.
"We have been given a poor lot indeed. I do not believe that we can simply sit by and accept it. There must be a better life out there for us. Every day I hope that I could be free of this place, Thibalt. I wish that I could see them all dead, decaying in this forsaken wasteland that they call home."
Thibalt was shaken. He had never heard Christill speak like this. Though Thibalt harboured his own negative feelings towards the Miirvkin, he had always tried to accept their situation and make the best of it.
Christill who was breathing heavily grabbed his water skin and guzzled down a long mouthful. This seemed to calm him and he relaxed his muscles. "I am sorry, brother. I did not mean what I just said. It's this heat."
"It's alright. I know what it's like. You just need some rest. Why don't you go and lie down and try to get some sleep," Thibalt replied.
Christill sighed and lay down on his blanket, his body in severe pain. Before he fell asleep he began to mumble to himself. "I will show them. They think me weak and inferior. Well who was it that killed the Irian? It was me, I am the strongest, and I have the power," he muttered.
Thibalt, hearing this, smiled and curled himself up in several blankets. "You show them, Christill," he whispered before succumbing to his exhaustion.