Shards of History

by Rebecca Roland

  “There’s more you should know,” she said. “And then you can decide if you really want me to come back to you.” She told how she had overheard the men talking about an exile and Jeguduns and followed them to their village. She spoke of what she’d heard and seen and how she couldn’t let Rasmus go when he held information that she needed. The color drained from Enuwal’s cheeks when she spoke of the fire and how they’d had no choice but to let it pass over them. Her voice faltered as she described the bridge’s collapse and Rasmus’s plunge into the water. Hot tears brimmed along her eyes. She wiped them away with the back of her hand. She led him up to the moment she’d been brought to him.

  Enuwal said nothing. The tall grass rippled in the wind like waves on the river. The sounds of the village had calmed. It was mid-afternoon, which meant the small children napped. And the earlier excitement of the day had probably worn off. Now the villagers would be wondering what happened to the two men who fell into the river with Rasmus, and what the river’s rise meant and how it changed their plans for the year’s harvest.

  “What you told me changes nothing,” Enuwal said. “I stand by my offer. Malia, you are always welcome here. And if the men’s council doesn’t like it, then I’ll leave.”

  “You can’t do that. The Taakwa need you.”

  He grinned wryly. “Which is why the council will give in to my wishes.” The grin faded. “I would prefer, of course, that you not leave at all. This situation is too dangerous.”

  “I have to go to the Jeguduns. They need to know the Taakwa are forming an army against them. It would be better if I could figure out a way to stop the Taakwa.”

  Enuwal laid a hand on her shoulder. “Save all that for tomorrow. For now, you need to rest and have something to eat.”

  The soft sleeping pallet pulled at Malia as did the thought of food. She laid a hand over Enuwal’s. Silently, they walked back inside the coolness of his home, leaving the day’s heat behind.

  Chapter 16

  Enuwal left to tend to a child who had fallen ill after eating something that had disagreed with her. Malia added wood to the fire and began searching through his food stores. She found nothing in the way of meat. She was staring at the scant food supplies, hands propped on her hips, and trying to imagine what she could do with beans and a dried pepper when footsteps scuffed the dirt outside the door in the outer wall.

  Malia waited, expecting Enuwal’s hand to draw back the blanket. Her pulse quickened when the person just remained standing outside. Her hand went automatically to her hip, searching for the hilt of her dagger. It wasn’t there. She’d left it on a shelf and never put it back on. Keeping her gaze on the door, she sidestepped quietly towards the shelf. Her hand searched blindly, passing over Enuwal’s folded clothes, animal skin by the feel, then the smooth wooden shelf, then finally closing in on her belt. She drew it down and slid the dagger free with the slightest whisper of blade against leather.

  The back of her neck tingled much as it had when she and Rasmus had been crossing the plain, just before Stromlof and the others caught them. This wouldn’t be Stromlof, though. Dalibor, her mind whispered. No. His injuries were too serious for him to have followed her so quickly. He and others of the council would search for her eventually, but it wasn’t Dalibor lurking outside the door. Still, the tingling strengthened until it felt like the hairs along the back of her neck stood straight out.

  A hand grasped the edge of the blanket and pulled it aside. Malia held the dagger at her side, ready to strike, and trotted across the room to press herself against the wall so the person coming in would have his back to her.

  An older boy ducked his head in, his hair hanging loose down his back. He held two skinned and cleaned rabbits in one hand and a small covered basket in the other. The faint smell of bread wafted from the basket. He turned, enough for Malia to recognize the boyish face. It was Stromlof’s son Lowvalki.

  She straightened, pointing the dagger blade to the ground. “You scared me.”

  The boy started and whirled. When he spotted the dagger in her hand, his eyes widened, and he took a step back.

  Malia set the dagger on the nearest shelf and held her arms at her sides, palms out. “What were you doing standing out there quietly for so long?”

  “I, uh,” he cleared his throat. “Last time I walked in, a man was injured. There was a lot of blood …” His gaze turned inward for a moment, and the skin around his eyes tightened as if he looked at that scene again.

  Malia gestured towards the rabbits. “And those?”

  Lowvalki held them up. “My father sent me with them, for you and Enuwal. He said you’d need some decent food, and Enuwal doesn’t spend a whole lot of time hunting. And then my mother baked extra bread.”

  “Thank you.” Malia took the rabbits and basket from him. She began preparing them for a stew with the beans and the dried pepper. “And thank your father and your mother. It’s very kind of him to think of us while he’s searching for his brother.” Her own loss pulled at her. “How goes the search?”

  Lowvalki shrugged. He made a pretense of studying the items on the shelves. “I could help, but my father made me hunt rabbits instead. I’m nearly a man, you know.”

  Malia ducked her head to hide her grin. “You remind me very much of my brother Vedran. He just went through the ceremony.”

  “Did he?” Wistfulness was heavy in the boy’s voice. “What did he have to say about it?”

  “He didn’t say much. Not to me, at any rate. He was gaunt when he came back. That bothered me. But he was different. He held himself straighter. He spoke with the seriousness of a man. He had changed in many ways.”

  Lowvalki sighed. “I can’t wait until the day I can braid my hair.”

  “You should enjoy this last bit of uncomplicated life.” Would this boy be safe from the fighting? She did not want to see the openness wiped from this boy’s face because of war any more than she wanted that to happen to her brother.

  “I should get back home, help my mother and my aunt.”

  Malia nodded. The boy left through the door that led to the village center. The noise out there was rising again as afternoon started to give way to evening. Boys ran past, shouting and laughing. It was probably the same group as before, chasing the leader with the leather stick.

  Malia considered Enuwal’s earlier proposal as she worked. He would risk much by letting her stay with him. Despite his confidence that the men’s council would never banish him, she had no doubt they would if they felt threatened by her presence, especially since the Jeguduns had recently become more dangerous in their eyes. The Taakwa needed Enuwal. She couldn’t let him risk himself.

  But what were her alternatives? From what Rasmus had said, it sounded like she could stay with the Jeguduns. What sort of life would that be? Were there other exiled Taakwa, or did they keep to themselves? Could she really live the rest of her life as one of the only humans among Jeguduns? She couldn’t leave the valley, not as long as the Maddion were out there. She rubbed at her temples. This was giving her a headache.

  Enuwal walked in later, just as Malia deemed the stew done. He wore a long deerskin robe, beadwork and thread depicting some of the more common herbs he used in healing, such as arrowroot, calendula, and chamomile. The robe had not been so covered when Malia had last seen it. In one hand he held a covered basket. He used it to carry supplies with him when he went to visit sick or injured people.

  Malia sat back on her heels and gave him a wry grin. “I see you have perfected a man’s timing of arriving just when all the work is done and the meal is ready.”

  “Actually, I’ve perfected the pitiful look of a hungry man with no wife to cook for him. It wins me many invitations to dinner.”

  “And I’m sure half of those are from clan mothers, trying to persuade you to marry someone so you could spare everyone from your pitiful looks.”

  He grimaced. “That is so true. It’s come to the point where I turn on my heels if I see our clan
mother striding towards me with that certain look on her face.”

  Malia thought of her own mother. “I know that look well.”

  Enuwal set his basket in one corner. He shrugged out of his robe, folded it carefully, and placed it on top of the basket. “Whatever you’re cooking smells wonderful.”

  “Stromlof’s son brought us rabbits.”

  “Ah.” Enuwal’s face grew sad. He sat beside Malia, crossing his long legs. “They have not found his brother or his friend. I’m afraid they might not. They will probably be found tomorrow, tangled in underbrush far down the river.”

  They would be returned home for a proper burial. But Rasmus … whoever found him would simply burn his body. No words would be spoken over him, no wails would announce he had left behind people who cared for him.

  She forced her thoughts aside as she ladled stew into two bowls. Steam rose from them. Enuwal laid a blanket beside the central hearth and set out the bread and utensils, then filled two mugs with water.

  Outside the boys’ voices rose to a crescendo, and their feet thundered across the ground like a herd of small beasts.

  Enuwal settled beside her on the blanket and waited for her to take the first bite.

  The rabbit was tender, and the spices she’d added gave the stew a nice tang.

  Enuwal took a bite. He closed his eyes and nodded his appreciation as he chewed. “Wonderful,” he said after swallowing. “What did you add to it?”

  “The last, lonely dried pepper and some dried coriander.”

  He froze with the spoon halfway to his mouth. “Dried coriander?”

  “It was right next to the pepper.”

  He lowered the spoon and bowl. “That wasn’t coriander.”

  Malia’s innards knotted. Enuwal had all sorts of herbs lying around, and not all of them were safe for consumption. “But it smelled like coriander.” She looked anew at the bowl, as if it brimmed over with crawling worms.

  “I’m teasing you. It’s coriander. It’s safe.” Enuwal ducked his head. “I was just trying to get you to relax.”

  The knots in Malia’s stomach eased. “Oh.”

  Enuwal sighed. “I’m not very good company for you.”

  She laid a hand on his. “I can’t imagine anywhere else I’d rather be right now. My state of mind is just not salvageable tonight.”

  His hand turned over and grasped her fingers lightly. A bolt of warmth shot up her arm from where he touched her. What if, last summer, there had been no future husband to return to? Would she have paid more attention to the lingering brush of Enuwal’s fingers against her hands, or the times she caught him watching her? Would she have admitted to herself that she liked it?

  “Have you given any more thought to what I said earlier?” he asked. “About your staying with me?”

  Malia gently withdrew her hand from his. She wrapped both of them around the bowl of stew, its warmth replacing that which Enuwal’s hand had created. “I did.” She should tell him no, tell him it was too much of a risk for her to stay with him. Instead, she said, “I haven’t reached a decision yet.”

  “Take your time.” Enuwal resumed eating.

  Malia ate too, despite her appetite having disappeared. She was only putting off the inevitable. She couldn’t entertain the idea of returning to Enuwal, or he might end up exiled. And it would be much worse for him. Malia had left of her own free will, but Enuwal would be shamed in front of his entire village, his head shorn, stripped naked, and turned out. She couldn’t let that happen to him.

  Running footsteps approached Enuwal’s door. He set aside the bowl and stood, already reaching for his healer’s basket when a young man, hair braided, pushed aside the blanket and ran in. His eyes flickered to Malia for a moment before he turned his full attention on Enuwal.

  “Travelers from the south have just arrived,” he said between gasps. “One is injured. Jegudun fight.”

  “Part of the gathering army?” Malia asked.

  The man shook his head. “There’re only two of them. They’re looking for a woman from their village. They’re on their way to you right now.” Then he ducked out.

  Malia went cold all over, and her body began to shake. She dropped the bowl. It made a dull sound as it hit the blanket, splattering stew. Dalibor. She hastened to her feet, hands fumbling to tie her leather belt and dagger around her waist. Then she darted across the room for her travel bag, wincing as her knee protested the sudden movement. What else? She had to leave quickly before he found her.

  “Malia, what’s wrong?” Enuwal asked.

  “It has to be Dalibor. I need to get out of here.”

  “You don’t know that.”

  “I do. I haven’t been able to shake the feeling that he followed me.”

  Enuwal strode across the room and laid his hands on her shoulders. “Don’t go far. Wait in the outbuilding. If it’s him, I’ll get rid of him as soon as I’ve seen to him.”

  “Malia!” The cry held disbelief and anger all at once. Dalibor stood just inside Enuwal’s door with his brother Andrij at his side. A bloodied bandage covered Dalibor’s hand where Tuvin had bit him. A bulge beneath his animal skin leggings suggested he wore another there.

  “No,” she whispered as a cold hand gripped her heart.

  Darkness and hatred filled his eyes. “I was right.” Venom dripped from his words. “You came straight to him.”

  Beside her, Enuwal frowned in confusion. “What is he talking about?”

  Malia’s hand went to her dagger’s hilt. “You see only what you want to see.”

  “I see my wife with another man, the man I suspected her of having feelings for, speaking of how they are going to get rid of me as soon as possible.”

  Enuwal stepped between them, holding his hands up. Malia thought of how she’d stepped between Dalibor and Tuvin at the hot springs and had a sudden image of Dalibor plunging his dagger into Enuwal’s neck. She pushed Enuwal aside and faced Dalibor straight on.

  “And here I thought you were dead,” Dalibor said. “Some men saw you in the midst of last night’s fire. They said there was no way you could have survived. How did you do it? Was it Jegudun magic? Did you sprout wings and fly away?” He limped forward, one hand reaching for her. “Let me touch you to make sure you’re real.”

  Malia drew her dagger with a hiss of the blade against leather and held it before her. “I’ll touch you with this and let your blood flow. Would that prove it to you?”

  He froze, then lowered his arm.

  “What are you doing here?” she asked. “If you thought I was dead, why did you come?”

  “I came to fight Jeguduns. It was such a joy to kill the one, I thought I’d add more to this.” He pulled a leather strap from beneath his tunic, revealing one of Tuvin’s talons hanging from it.

  A white hot ball of rage formed in Malia’s gut and expanded until it burned to her fingers and toes. “I should kill you,” she hissed, “and hang your finger from my necklace for all to see.”

  Enuwal stepped between them, pushing Malia back. “That’s enough,” he said to Dalibor. “I’ll see to your wounds, then you leave.”

  “Do you know what she did?” he asked. “Do you know why she’s here, why we’ve followed her?”

  “Why don’t you tell me?” he asked calmly.

  Dalibor’s mouth quirked in a mirthless grin. “She left Selu because she was hiding a Jegudun and caring for it. She told no one about it. And when I found it and killed it, she became enraged and left. My brother and I tracked her down to bring her back so that she could be properly exiled.”

  “I know about the Jegudun. Malia told me everything.”

  The grin faded from Dalibor’s face. “And you haven’t sent her back to Selu?” He shook his head. “Then you’ll be judged as well, for aiding her.”

  “She’s not going back. She’s staying with me.”

  Malia shut her eyes tight. No, no, no. Enuwal had no idea how he was provoking Dalibor. Or maybe he did. But why
would he do such a thing? Did he think to take the focus of Dalibor’s anger away from her? It wouldn’t work.

  Something like lightning passed between the two men, an angry, crackling thing that made the hairs on Malia’s neck rise. She opened her eyes.

  “She’s still married to me,” Dalibor said. “The clan mother hasn’t finalized the end of our marriage.”

  “You want to remain married to a woman about to be exiled?”

  “You want to take in a woman about to be exiled?”

  “We are at a standoff then.”

  Dalibor’s eyes narrowed. “Your council won’t let her stay, not after I’ve spoken with them.”

  “She’s been injured and is unable to make the trip back to Selu just yet. They’ll have no choice but to let her stay until she’s fit for the journey.”

  “She seems fine to me.”

  Neither man seemed to notice Malia anymore. She could probably sneak out the back door and disappear into the woods before they noticed she was gone. Perhaps that was the best thing to do. Then Enuwal wouldn’t feel as if he had to protect her. She began to back slowly towards the door, her gaze darting from one man to the other as if watching hungry wolves. She froze when Andrij focused on her.

  Then he quietly said, “Brother, we should see to your wounds and then find a place for the night. Leave her. Leave her as if she is dead, taken by the fire. It would be best for us all.”

  From the distant woods, an owl let out a mournful, inquiring cry. Darkness had fully risen, unnoticed by Malia until this moment. Tendrils of it reached through the door and the hole in the ceiling as if trying to grasp at the feeble light put out by the hearth.

  Yes, leave me for dead, she wanted to say. It would be best for everyone. She took a deep breath, but before she could say anything, several llama voices rose in ululation. Something had panicked them.

  Enuwal frowned. “That doesn’t sound good. Come on.” He grabbed Malia’s hand and propelled her past Dalibor and Andrij into the village center.