Mirklin Wood

Darkness

Tamys floated above the tent and watched as Padraig bought apples from the passing wagon bound for the town. Using his dagger the herbman quartered an apple and fed the three horses. He then sat down by the cold fire pit to munch a quarter for himself. Padraig had left the side of the tent up so that Tamys would not become overwarm and in the languid warmth of a summer day following a drenching rain, Tamys dreamt....

He stood upon a mountaintop overlooking a wide valley that he recognized, but could not name. The impossible blue sky called him to join it and he took flight, soaring over forests and rivers as if on wings....

His head hurt. His throat scratched. He felt the solidity of the bedding beneath him....

The wind ruffled his hair as he followed a river. He circled a dun of pink stone, dipping lower and lower until he could see men upon the walls and horses in the ward. He thought to land ....

Raven black hair and golden eyes. She tasted of the best mead. His hands fumbled with her clothes as she removed his. His sword belt clanked to the floor. Then he felt the windowsill behind his knees and her hands upon his chest. He grabbed to save himself, but his hands closed on air. There was a moment of weightlessness and ....

He came fully into his battered body, his throat bone dry, paining roaring through his limbs. He thought he opened his eyes, but mayhap he was not fully awake. He groaned. There was a sound to his left and then a hand upon his forehead. Not his step-mother. This hand had calluses.

"Tam?"

His lips felt like they hadn't moved in years. He peeled them apart, but his tongue was too heavy to lick them.

"W-w-water," he croaked.

A bottle of cold water was placed to his lips, but taken away too soon.

"Just sips for now, until you get used to it," the man said. He knew the voice, but he couldn't grasp a name. Not his da, for Corbryn did not believe in visiting the sick. And sick he was. His head pounded with every thought.

"P-padraig?"

"Aye, lad. It's good to see your eyes open again."

"W-where?"

"Wmgleadd."

"Did ...." His throat tightened and he coughed. The water came back, a sip more precious than air. "Did I fall?"

"Aye."

"When?"

"An eightnight."

Tamys struggled to clear his throat. It earned him another sip of water. He still couldn't see Padraig. There was light, but it was all a thick gray, like a heavy mist with naught moving in it. He fumbled for and found Padraig's face.

"What time is it?"

"Middday. You needn't worry about that right now. You need rest."

As if by magic, Tamys felt sleep dragging him back into the blankets. He remembered falling and his hand tightened on Padraig's arm, then he floated free of the ground and let the dark take him.

The next time he awoke, Padraig was slower to respond and he was more aware of the pain. Bruised and stiff his body was and his head pounded with every pulse. The water felt glorious, but his empty stomach clenched and he retched before sleeping....

In his dream, he floated far above the earth as if on wings, seeing small birds in trees far below. Sometimes he heard voices he knew. Aethyn, Braedyn and Duglas the caravan master visited at different times. Padraig let him sip milk once and then another time it was bread soaked in milk. The pain subsided slightly and he became able to think for short periods.

He woke from a dream in which he flew far above a dun he recognized from Mulyn. The misty gray beyond his eyes greeted him. He lay listening to Padraig talking with Duglas. The caravan was leaving for Mandorlyn and Duglas had brought Padraig somewhat. It had been a fortnight from some event that Tamys must have slept through. Padraig was saying somewhat of needing to travel south.

"This will make taking him with much easier."

"I could provide a wagon," Duglas said.

"Nay. This will do much better. Thanks to you for all of your assistance."

"I wish there were more I could give. Do you think he'll ever be well again?"

"It's early days yet and he heals uncannily well."

"I wondered about that. He's not from the east, but I saw the signs."

"His grandmam, I think."

Tamys put out a hand to pull the tent flap aside, thinking he'd protest being spoken of as if he were a piece of kit, but his hand encountered only air.

"Ah, lad, awake, I see," Padraig said. "Let me get some water for you."

When the bottle was pressed to his lips, Tamys swallowed once and then stayed Padraig's hand. His energy was limited and he needed to know.

"What watch is it?"

"Midday," Padraig said. Tamys could hear the catch in his voice.

He knows.

"Am I inside a tent or in the open?"

"Under a tarp, but mostly open. It's been hot today."

Tamys put his own hand in front of his face and saw the gray change a little, but he did not recognize his hand.

"I'm tired," he whispered, trying to avoid the truth.

"You're mending, lad. What is it you want to ask me?"

His heart pounding in his chest also began to flutter in his ears. It felt like the ground was spinning slowly to the left.

"I can't see," Tamys admitted.

"I thought that was the case."

Tamys opened his mouth to say somewhat in reply, but there was naught to say, so he closed his lips and swallowed hard. The dizziness spun him lazily into the black and then he floated far above the ferry on the Avermulyn on a warm summer day. He let the dream take him to a place where he didn't need to think about what blindness meant for his survival.

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