Korah: Heir of Gnamalea

CHAPTER FIVE

His question caught her off guard. The way his voice disappeared to a shaky whisper; he wasn't scared but disturbed. She only had one response to that, the simplest yet explanatory answer she could tell him without going into detail. What would he think of her if he knew she let her brother be taken from her? She was a coward nonetheless, but also a disappointment to him. William was starving and thirsty as she sat on her miserable ass, doing nothing to get him back. "Captain Alejandro," she said as she lightly touched the scar laid across her right eye. The large gash, lucky to not have carved her eye out when he did it. It was deep as she expected but scarred as it healed.

Marcus didn't speak a word. He sat still; the room became quiet and cold. She turned to him and saw he wasn't looking at her. It probably disgusted him to see it. He was probably disgusted with her anyway; most of Gnamalea was. I mean a daughter of the loathed Delevigne Lagnora. The name made her sick, not of hate for her mother, more the memory of her and how everything would be different if it had been different. The thought of it, if everything changed and possibly worse, made Korah sick to every bone in her body.

She let her hair fall back over the scar and stood from her chair, being aware of her injured leg. "Where are you going? Don't get up. You could lose more blood," Marcus said as he sat her back down. She groaned as she stared at the jar of cocoa on the shelf across the room.

    "I need something warm to drink," she croaked. Her throat dry and cold; it was agonising. Marcus walked over to the jar of herbs and boiled the water on the hot coals outside. It was getting icy in the hut again. Winter is always Korah's least favourite season. One of the reasons is for the Anniversary of her mother's death and the Anniversary she lost her brother. They were always on her mind; there is never a time where they weren't. A rush of anger crawled upon her skin; her hands clenched, her nails digging deep into her palm. She welcomed the pain, but she also needed to calm down.

    "Korah, are you okay?", he said pouring the hot water into a mug. She breathed in slowly and unclenched her hands; the ache for the pressure built up in her fingers and palm, the blood pumping heavily told her she had drawn gashes in her palm and wouldn't be suitable for the leg. She looked up at Marcus feeling a cold rush of air past her face, noticing tears had slid down her cheeks. She wiped the water from her eyes and sighed.

    "I'm fine," she lied. Marcus paused but remained quiet before he passed her mug of hot cocoa. She turned to the smell of steam and the warm air it gave off. She looked at the man in front of her. He was looking at the ground; he didn't look up at her. She felt the hate he had for her in the cold air that occasionally liked to welcome itself through the open door.

She carefully grabbed hold of the mug from his rough hands and slowly held it against her chest with it resting just below her chin. "Thank you, Marcus," this time, he looked up at he and gave her a straight-lipped smile.

~ . ~

Later that afternoon, Marcus had stayed outside and sat amongst the cliff. She did struggle to make her way up the ladder but made it to the top. The pain was excruciating, but Korah ignored it. As she limped over to him with her hood, hot cocoa and a light coat she'd found under her bed. She sat next to him, cautious of her leg and nudged his arm lightly. He looked at her with his eyes in worry. "You shouldn't be climbing ladders, let alone walking," he said, taking the warm mug from her cold hands.

    "Yes, but I shouldn't be letting you stay out here without a coat. You could catch a cold," Korah laughed. He didn't move; he just stared at the city below. There was so much she wanted to learn about him, but why? Were they even friends? Even if they weren't, she still had Quill, but how often did she ever see Quill? She slowly got up from her spot next to Marcus and limped back to the hut.

    Before she could go any further, he called her name. She stopped and turned back to face him. He looked tired and cold; why didn't he come back inside where it's at least a tad warmer? The worry for her friend was instant when she saw his cold blue lips. "Take care of yourself," he said as he pulled the coat tighter around his body and turned back around.

She thought for a while, not moving but shivering from the chilly flakes of snow falling. Is it a risk to have a friend? Could she have that much trust in someone else? She knew she couldn't leave a friend alone like this. If he did the same, she would have felt betrayed. "Marcus," he turned back around and looked up at her. "Come inside," she walked back to the hut slowly and carefully, with Marcus following. He helped her down as she took her time to get to the bottom before walking back through the wooden door.

    They didn't speak to each other for a while. Korah had a sleepless night while she worried for his safety if he accompanied her on her dangerous and somewhat rebellious run against the King. He could have more of a death penalty than herself. He could be blamed for her wrongdoing. She could never forgive herself if he were caught with her. She didn't want to think about that now. All she wanted to think about now is how lucky she is to have a friend like Marcus. He helped her when anyone would have just stood to watch that soldier kill her. But he didn't; why?

    She pulled the blanket tighter to her body as she watched him sleep on the floor next to her. She had nowhere else for him to sleep, so she pulled out the warmest, most comfortable rug she could find for him to lay on and a warmer blanket for him to keep him from freezing the stone floor. Korah wished she had a fireplace, just like the one she had in her old home. Like the one, she and William lived in those years ago. She wished she'd found that book long ago and burned it until it no longer existed. Korah could've done it a long time ago but couldn't bring herself to do it. It was the last thing she had of her mother.

She sat up in bed and pulled her legs to her chest, careful of her injured left. She needed to get her brother back. She needed to find her mothers killer. She needed to find a way to restore Gnamalea's lost society. They had nothing to offer amongst their markets and farming lands. She needed a way to let people travel, to let people love.

She swore on her family name, and the only way she could do that?

Marcus.