The Fall of the Stars Book 1: Wheels of War

Trisha Longmark I

Richye was dead and Gerey might as well have died with him. Trisha and Gerey were the only two to survive the attack. The bodies of the men who fought alongside them were lifted by the villagers and then buried. Except Richye's. Trisha would not let them touch him. Gerey had to forcefully pry Richye from her hands two days after his death. I didn't tell him. Before he died, she planned on telling him. She thought of it when she proposed to him, but she couldn't find the right chance to bring it up. But now it was too late.

More than a fortnight had passed and they were still in the village. The family of the girl that was killed at the fountain took Trisha and Gerey in, fed them, and clothed them. Gerey's wounds were healing well enough, but the pain he felt wasn't reflected on the outside. He ate and slept, never making a sound or word. The family did not complain; they were busy grieving their dead girl.

Trisha was bundled up in the furs given to her by the dead girl's father, shrinking in the dark room on the dead girl's bed where she and Gerey slept. Gerey was there, curled up next to her. She could feel his warm breath on her neck. He never spoke, but he communicated with Trisha in other ways. He was angry, frustrated at his own failure and Richye's death. In his mind he blamed himself and hated the world for allowing it to happen. He was filled with rage and sorrow. As it was, he probably would not care if someone came to kill him.

"Gerey," she said, though she knew he wasn't going to respond with words. "When are we going to leave this place?" For a moment she no longer felt his breath. "We have to leave. We don't know if they will be back." He didn't care. He would die with no care. "Gerey..." Richye was dead, so there was no way to tell him. But she could tell Gerey. "I'm... I'm going to have a child." Then she felt him huff. "It isn't yours. It's Richye's... At least I think so." His breathing was just a bit heavier. "I didn't get a chance to tell him... I..."

She was about to shed tears when the dead girl's mother entered the dark room with a lamp. "Are you two hungry?" she asked. The woman was short and had short, dark hair like her daughter. Her eyes were a dark green, filled with sadness.

"We are." Trisha threw the fur off of her and grabbed Gerey's right hand. "Get up. We have to eat."

Gerey slid off of the bed, silent. He still wore the same clothes he was attacked in, even after being offered new ones by the villagers. At the most they were able to force a sling on him to nurse his broken arm. Trisha dragged him out of the room and to the table where the dead girl's father, mother, and younger brother sat. That night's supper was horse soup, as it had been since they first stayed there. Trisha and Gerey did not complain, though. The family said a prayer and then started eating.

The girl's younger brother was maybe six or seven years old, small like the rest of his family with dark green eyes and short, dark hair. He was the most talkative person in the house, always talking about what he and his friends had been up to as of late. He did not seem as disheartened as the rest of his family about his sister's death, but maybe that was because he was young. The boy tried many times to talk to Gerey, but Gerey didn't respond to him. Sometimes he would look up from his plate at the boy and search him with his dead, dark eyes. But he never spoke.

When supper was over, instead of retiring to their rooms as was customary, the dead girl's father grabbed two axes from the corner of the room and handed one to Gerey. "We need more wood for the fire. If you're gonna stay here, you're gonna help out."

Gerey grasped the axe with his one hand and followed the man out of the house. The girl's younger brother ran out of the house to join his friends. The girl's mother gathered the plates from the table.

"I'll do that for you," Trisha said. "It's the least I can do." Trisha took the plates from the dead girl's mother and hauled them to the kitchen.

"You haven't told us your names," the lady said as Trisha washed the plates.

Since being taken in to have Gerey treated, Trisha did not exchange many words with their hosts. She spent all of her time on the bed with Gerey, only rising to eat or relieve herself. "I'm Trisha... Trisha Longmark."

"And the boy?"

"He's Gerey Nesell. We sometimes call him Lord Gerey." Who is 'we'? Richye is dead.

"Listen," the lady began, resting her hand on Trisha's shoulder, "you and Gerey should leave soon. We know your grief. We've lost a loved one as well. But I fear for your lives if you do not return home. The Blue Knight could be back at anytime and..."

"I know." Trisha forced a smile. "Thank you for treating us as well as you did."

"You can keep the clothes we gave you. It might be snowing still when you get down the road."

Gerey, the dead girl's father, and the dead girl's brother arrived hours later with two large sacks on their backs. Gerey put the sacks to a corner and retired to the dark room to sleep. The dead girl's father was taken to a side by his wife. She whispered to him for a moment, and then he turned away from her, shaking his head. He entered the room with her following right behind him.

When Trisha laid next to Gerey she found him already asleep. I'll tell him in the morning. We'll leave tomorrow. She pulled the fur over them and drifted off into sleep.