by Kate Sander
“I need you to miss the funeral,” the Shaman was trying to tread softly. It didn’t work.
Tory tilted her head back and laughed. “Good one. Really. Senka was my best friend. The least I can do is watch them burn her body.”
“Considering you are the one who let her die,” Black Eyes chimed in from next to her.
“Exactly! So as I’m the scumbag who couldn’t save her, I should probably watch her fucking body burn,” Tory took a sip of her tea. When it burned her mouth, she threw the clay cup across the room causing it to shatter against the wall. The pieces tinkled to the ground, small sounds echoing in her ears.
Tory and the Shaman stared at the shattered cup. Tory’s chest heaved and she regained her icy calm, “But hey, you asked, so I will follow blindly like everyone else. Sorry if I don’t believe you as readily as everyone else. You have tricks, you don’t have knowledge.”
The Shaman stayed silent for a long time, allowing her to calm herself slightly. Finally, he said, “I need you to go find your father.”
Tory stared at him, shocked. Whatever she was expecting, it wasn’t that. They stared at each other again for a long time.
“Well,” Tory finally said, eyes shooting daggers, “as you’re the one who told me he was dead, that seems awfully hard to do.”
“I’m going to have to tell you some hard truths. I have lied to you in the past, against my judgment and due to extreme circumstances. I promise nothing but the truth from this point forward.”
“Why should I believe you?” Tory asked. Again, she heard Black Eyes from a distance, yelling something at her. She couldn’t figure out where she was yelling from, Black Eyes was always beside her.
The Shaman shook his head, “You have no reason to. I’ve lied in the past, I won’t lie now. I have no reason to trick you.”
Tory shook her head, “I’ll let you speak, but I’m not going to believe you.”
The Shaman gave a small nod. “Your mother was a Zoya. She was from another world, across a vast plain of emptiness. The same place Senka was from. Apollyon, Senka’s old master, took your mother in and trained her. She made her way to this village and met your father. They had you,” the Shaman was talking fast trying to get all the information out. Tory stared at him with her steady gaze. It was hard to focus on his words. Black Eyes was still yelling something. It sounded like she was miles away, Tory could hear her she just couldn’t make out the words.
“A common occurrence with Zoya is that they often die without reason. Often as if someone blows out a candle somewhere and the Zoya’s soul goes with it. This happened to your mother. Your mother and father were out hunting and she dropped dead. Your father… Your father lost his way. Instead of staying to raise you alone, he asked that I tell you that both your parents died at the same time in a hunting accident. It was easier for him than looking at you. You look remarkably like your mother.”
“I was five years old. He needed to man up and raise me. Instead he left me alone.”
“He felt that his sister would do a better job than he would in that state. I agreed with him.”
Tory saw something flash in the old man’s eyes. The same thing that always kept her hesitant when he asked others to follow him blindly.
“Liar,” she said venomously. “If you want to lie, get out of my house.”
The Shaman blinked a few times then recovered. He was quite adept, due to his position and his skills, at lying and getting away with it. It was second nature. He would have to tread softly to start his plan into motion. He tilted his head in her direction, face wrinkled, eyes downcast, “You’re right. I’m sorry that was a lie. I did not agree with him. I thought you needed your father. He didn’t agree, and as the Melanthios way is to give final say to the parents, there wasn’t much I could do.”
“There was a man on the battlefield by the King. He was the man who injured Jules. Did you see him?” asked the Shaman. The change in topic caught her off guard.
Tory shook her head, “Sorry, I was a bit preoccupied.”
“He will bring down this nation. All of us will die.”
The fervent way the Shaman spoke worried Tory more than the words.
“You need to find your father. He will have a lot of information for you. We have a very slim chance to save the world. This is a crucial part.”
“Why can’t I leave in the morning?” Tory asked. “Why can’t I stay for her funeral?”
“You must leave tonight. Senka’s soul is gone, you being around to watch her body burn does not change that.”
“You’re not going to tell me why, are you?”
“If I tell you why,” the Shaman said gravely, “you will not go.”
Tory sighed and rubbed her face, “Fine,” she said, “I’ll go. I don’t want to say goodbye to anyone. Eli can’t handle and Ujarak…. Well Ujarak will know. Which way do I head in the forest?”
“You’re not going into the forest. You’re going over the mountain.”
Tory snorted and shook her head, then rose to start packing her traveling bag, “You know, for a man of infinite wisdom, you really know how to pile shit on.”
“TORY!” Black Eyes yelled in her ear so close that Tory jumped. “TORY WAKE UP!” Black Eyes yelled again.
The world around her went black.
Tory sat straight up, gasping. She wrenched herself violently out of the dream. She had lived that part of her life once, she didn’t need to live it again.
She was disoriented. She had no idea what was going on or where she was. Her vision swirled.
“Woah,” she heard a voice, familiar, almost comforting, in her ear. “Slow your breathing down or you’ll pass out again.”
Tory listened. A surprise to both of them. She put her head between her knees and slowed her breathing.
“That’s it,” the voice said, her familiar sass a comfort. “That’s it. Three counts in, one count out.”
Once Tory settled her heart and could see straight she raised her head and looked around her. She was in a small shelter made of wood with a fire burning brightly in a rough stone fireplace in the corner. The smell of cooking meat filled the cabin. There was a small stool in front of the fireplace with a couple of pots hanging from the wall. She was on a small bed of blankets. Her bag was by a rickety door. Tory could hear the wind howling outside. The shack rattled in the wind but none entered the sturdy little wooden shelter.
The fire was burning brightly, so she figured she hadn’t been alone for long. She noticed her clothes were hanging by the fire. She checked herself under the blankets.
“Yup, naked,” Black Eyes said in her ear.
Tory couldn’t bring herself to get up and do anything. She was so comfortable in the small bed. She lay back down and cozied up under the blankets. She hadn’t been warm in a long time.
“What happened?” she asked Black Eyes.
“Well, you almost died,” Black Eyes said. It sounded like she had settled on the floor beside Tory’s bed. “You passed out. I told you to never stop moving, you know.”
Tory nodded, “Yes, I know. Never been that tired though.”
“Well it was fucking stupid,” Black Eyes said sharply.
“Were you worried about me?”
Black Eyes stayed quiet.
“You were! Well I’m sorry I worried you.”
“That seemed genuinely sincere,” Black Eyes said. “What game are you playing?”
Tory sighed and cozied herself deeper into the blankets. She heard her stomach grumble with hunger but she didn’t care. She was so comfortable. “No game,” she said, “I must just be less miserable than usual as I’m in a comfortable bed. So after I passed out, what happened?”
“Well I saw what looked like a reflection of metal across the tundra so I went towards it as fast as I could.”
“So you could leave me?” Tory asked quietly. It seems they hadn’t figured out the rules of this phantasmal partnership at all.
“Think I could ou
t of necessity,” Black Eyes said.
“Something to test at some point,” Tory said.
“Agreed. But can I finish my story?”
Tory nodded.
“Thanks. Anyways, I found a man hiking across the tundra towards you.”
Tory smiled.
“I managed to yell at him and he followed my directions towards you. He found you and brought you here.”
Tory’s head was reeling. There were a lot of mysteries that she and Black Eyes would have to work out. But first, the most important thing.
“Thank you,” Tory said.
“You sure you didn’t hit your head?” Black Eyes asked incredulously.
Tory laughed, “No, I’m not. But I’m being sincere. Thank you for saving my life.”
“Well,” Black Eyes said hesitantly, “most of your life.”
Tory looked at her confused.
“Left hand,” Black Eyes said.
Tory hadn’t noticed any pain or discomfort at all. When everything hurt, it was hard to distinguish what hurt most. But a burning was spreading throughout her hand that was worse than the aches and pains of the rest of her body.
She brought her hand above the covers. Her left hand was wrapped in cloth. She unwrapped it and sighed. She had lost her left pinky finger. It had been cut off right above the palm and cauterized. The rest of her fingers were bright red but she could move them.
“Shit,” she breathed.
“Yea,” Black Eyes said. “It was black. Your toes and the tips of your other fingers were cold but he said they were salvageable. That one, though, was frozen solid. He said he wanted to cut it while you were asleep so you didn’t have to be awake for it thawing. He didn’t have all his fingers so I thought he’d know best.”
Tory sighed and wrapped her hand up again. It was done.
“How can he hear you?” Tory asked. “No one else but me and the Shaman have been able to hear you.”
“Not sure,” Black Eyes said. “I think maybe because I really needed him to.”
Tory lay back in bed and sighed again. She had a lot to think about.
“Where is he?” she asked Black Eyes.
“I think he went out for food.”
“Where is he getting food?”
“I’m not sure,” Black Eyes said. “He brought you north to this shelter. I thought it was just ice and snow up here. I don’t even know where he got the wood from.”
“He hasn’t been gone long though,” Tory said, staring at the crackling fire.
“No, and he’s back,” Black Eyes said.
Tory nodded and the door of the shack burst open. A large, husky man stooped through the door. He was covered head to toe with a polar bear fur. He had seal mitts and a balaclava covering his face. Only his eyes were showing. Tory could see his breath coming out in icy puffs. The icy wind flowed through the shack and Tory huddled underneath the blankets. The man quickly closed the door. The fire had been nearly extinguished by the gust of wind. The man took off his mitts and rushed forward, tending the fire back to life.
He ignored her presence entirely. He stripped off his outer layer of clothing and hung it by the fire to dry. He was dressed in layers and was left with a wool sweater and wool leggings. He kept his back towards her the entire time.
“Tea?” he grunted. Tory was immediately taken to the past. She hadn’t heard her father’s voice for a long time.
“Yes, please,” Tory answered. She was suddenly nervous. She felt her palms get sweaty and tried to wipe them on her blankets. That hurt her hand so she stopped. She knew he didn’t recognize her. At least she hoped he didn’t. His complete and utter lack of… anything was gut wrenching. Either he didn’t recognize his own daughter. Or he doesn’t care that you’re here, came the devastating thought.
Her father busied himself in front of the fireplace. Tory was suddenly embarrassed by her nakedness and kept herself hidden under her covers.
“I’m sorry I had to undress you,” her father said, seemingly following her thoughts. “You would have died if you would have stayed in those wet clothes. I can assure you I used the utmost discretion.”
He spoke softly but gruffly. Tory could tell he hadn’t used his voice for a long time. But he also spoke eloquently, as he always had. Her father had always been an odd man out. He went to Carabesh shortly after she was born to study. Rarely did the Melanthios do this, their entire world was a simple one. But her father had wanted to expand his mind at a young age. When he had returned he spoke and thought differently than everyone else. Then her mom had died and everything had changed.
He turned towards her and handed her the cup of tea. She noticed that a chunk of his nose was missing, as well as the tips of three of his fingers. He kept his eyes averted as she took the cup. He turned around again and put his tea on the chair in front of the fire. He checked her clothes hanging in front of the fire.
“They are dry,” he said. The shack rattled again in the wind. He folded them and placed them behind him, never looking back.
“I’m sorry but I can’t leave the shelter,” he said, staring into the fire. “There is quite a storm outside and I could get lost within fifteen feet of the door.”
“That’s ok,” she stammered. She hurriedly grabbed the clothes and threw them on under the blankets. She instantly felt more comfortable. She was unnerved by her modesty. She had never been embarrassed about being naked. Her body was hers. If someone didn’t like it, they didn’t have to look. For her it was that simple. But this blast from the past, this hulking man, had thrown her completely off her game.
“Now then,” he said, “I’m assuming that you are more comfortable. There is plenty of nourishment for us for the next few days. I have some holes in the ice flow outside but I won’t be able to find and check them until this storm passes.”
Tory didn’t say anything. Black Eyes was mercifully silent.
“Now,” her father said, “I am wondering what a young woman like yourself is doing this far north.”
“I’m looking for someone,” Tory replied hesitantly. He didn’t know who she was. That simultaneously hurt her and was a relief. He didn’t recognize her but he wasn’t ignoring their bond.
He turned from the fire. “Drink your tea,” he said to her. She had placed it beside the blankets while she was changing and it had been forgotten. She sat cross-legged at the end of the bed and drank deeply. The tea warmed her from the inside out. She hadn’t realized how hungry she was.
Her father watched her drink the tea greedily. He rose and rummaged around beside the fire. He tossed her a bag of dried seal meat. She tore into it. She barely even managed a grunted “Thank you.”
Her father smiled. “I’m sorry it took me so long to offer you food,” he said. The beautiful greasy meat lined her mouth as she tore into it. “I’m not used to having visitors and my manners elude me sometimes. I have spent excessive time alone.”
Tory began to slow. The meat was filling and she had gone a long time without being full to the top. She nodded and took a gulp of her tea. She felt younger, refreshed, and beautifully full and warm. The nervousness hadn’t dissipated.
She wiped her face and stared at him. He was everything she remembered. Handsome, tall, wide shoulders. Soft face with dark brown eyes. A piece of his nose was missing and he was short on a few fingers but he was exactly the same. He hadn’t changed in twenty years.
He stared at her, expectantly. Tory realized there wasn’t even a hint of recognition. He had no idea. The last she had seen him she’d been five. Everything about her had changed. She realized he had never even been looking for her as an adult.
“So,” he said, “now that you have been fed and watered, I have a few questions.”
She must have blanched when she nodded because he said, hurriedly, “We have time to talk. Or not, it’s up to you. We have at least a few days until this storm burns itself out.”
Tory nodded again.
“I don’t want to pry into yo
ur business but I have to say I am curious,” he said. He flashed her a big smile, “How about I talk a little bit about myself first, get you more comfortable.”
Tory nodded. “You’re awfully quiet,” Black Eyes whispered in her ear. Tory ignored her. She was engulfed in her father’s face and eyes.
“Well,” he said, “my name is Nirav.”
Tory’s stomach rumbled. It was him. She’d had no doubt but this confirmed it. Her “dead” father was standing in front of her talking to her.
“Maybe he is dead,” Black Eyes whispered. “You hear me just fine.”
I can’t see you though, Tory thought. Black Eyes didn’t have an answer. Tory focused on her father. She was engrossed.
“I am from a Melanthios village far to the south of here. I came here, in all honesty, because I was running away. From what, I will not discuss. I stay out here by myself for a few years at a time. Sometimes I venture south to the last northern village to visit with my friend Ira. We catch up, I learn of the things going on in Langundo.” He paused to put on more tea.
“I have to admit,” he said, fiddling with the kettle, “that you look a lot like women from my old village. Can I ask where you are from?”
“Ismat,” Tory said. She was watching him for any recognition.
His body froze in front of the kettle for a moment then he went back to fiddling with the water.
“Well, what a small world,” he said. “You are from my old village! What are the odds? Can I ask you your name?”
“Tory,” she answered.
The change was immediate and violent. Her father turned and threw a tea cup across the room. It didn’t break, but it clattered to the floor. He rose to his full height and yelled, “WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE?”
The change and the violence caught her by surprise. She didn’t rise to meet him. Her fear had her scurrying back across the bed.
“The Shaman…” She stammered.
“NO!” he yelled. He threw the stool across the room and it smashed against the wall. The shack rumbled in the wind. “I TOLD THE SHAMAN TO KEEP YOU AWAY!” he yelled.
“He sent me to find you,” she said hurriedly. His anger was focused on inanimate objects. She hoped that’s where it stayed.
