Shadow of Dawn

Chapter 17

It was days before he could walk again, days during which Therà did not return and terrible winds lashed at the hills. Valmyr cowered in the deepest reaches of the cave, shivering as gusts bit as his furs. He could hardly move for the pain radiating from his scars, and his stomach churned relentlessly. The winds abated at night, giving way to a freezing, humid air. When his strength allowed, he tried building a windwall from flat stones to protect his small fire. The kindling Therà had left him grew damp and the flames rarely resisted the wind and cold.

By the time her shadow reappeared in the opening, he was curled against the wall, skin almost peeling from frost. She did not speak as she ducked into the cave, arms full of furs, small logs strapped to her back. She sparked a flame, coaxed it to a roaring fire and threw warm furs over his body. There was warm broth and strips of dried meat that tasted of grass and spice.

'Stamper meat,' she called it as he gnawed on the strip like an animal. He did not ask her what stampers were.

'Where were you?' he croaked once his stomach was filled. Feeling rushed back into his fingertips and the fire dispelled some of the soreness in his muscles. 'I nearly froze to death.'

'I came as soon as I could!' she snapped. The bruise on her face had faded to yellow, but she seemed to be limping. 'You saw. There was a storm and...' she shook her head. 'I came as soon as I could.'

You could have died, the dark voice spat. She burns you to the bone and leaves you to rot.

She saved me.

Hardly.

Valmyr found himself overwhelmed with warring emotions; the urge to complain about his condition, the maddening need to argue against the voice in his head, the gnawing curiosity of what lay outside of his cave and the gut-churning worry for his sister. Was she still with Mara? Was she safe? He needed to know more about these plains, about the Men who inhabited them. Perhaps it would give him clues about where and how he had lost Valhilde.

'Tekath...' he said before trailing off. He did not know where to begin. What was Tekath? Were these plainsmen wanderers like the first folk were? If there were no old kin here, perhaps they had built large havens. 'Is it... Do you live there?'

Therà had lifted his furs to check his scars. Valmyr sucked air as her cold fingers touched his raw skin. She nodded, but kept her eyes on his wounds. When an answer did not come, he insisted.

'Your son,' he said, wincing. 'He is not with you.'

Once more, she merely shook her head and unwrapped the broad leaves clinging to his skin. The salve she had applied had hardened and when she removed it, his skin appeared less red than it had. The scar was rough and long, a jagged line running from his lower back along his ribs to his armpit. Around it, the skin had become smooth. He had seen enough festering wounds in the Dawnwood to know that he was saved. That Therà had saved him.

'Thank you,' he muttered as she applied a new batch of balm and flattened more leaves to his skin.

'One or two ribs may be cracked,' she told him, her fingertips probing for tender spots. He yelped as she touched a particularly painful rib. 'You will be fine. How are you feeling?'

Frustrated, the voice in his head wanted to say.

'Better,' Valmyr said. It was true; his bones and muscles were still sore and the scar stung when he moved, but he was feeling stronger. With enough food and a steady fire, he was certain he would be able to walk and run soon. 'Cold. I need more wood.'

'I will try to bring more next—'

'I can get it,' Valmyr interrupted, though he had not seen any trees from the ledge. 'Just tell me where.'

'It would be safer for you to stay hidden,' she said. 'I will bring more next time. Maybe... Malliver can come more often.'

'Safer?' Valmyr pulled away from her, wincing as his ribs moved. 'What do you mean, safer? There are people in Tekath, maybe even my sister! What if another golem comes or you cannot bring me kindling for days? I will not starve or freeze to death in this cave. As soon as I can stand...'

'You do not understand,' she hung her head.

'Then tell me!'

She flinched as he raised his voice and he glimpsed the shadow of fear crossing her face. Valmyr's breath came ragged and painful, but his frustration grew with every passing moment. Why was she hiding him? Why could she not bring him to wherever she lived? There would be food, fire, people. Once he found Mara and Valhilde, he could help, hunt and build. What was she afraid of?

'You never told me why you left the Dawnwood,' she said, changing the subject. She looked at him and he was surprised to see that her clear eyes had darkened, her brow furrowed. He saw her youth despite the hardness of her features.

'Why do you want to know?'

'Because I want to go back. I want to find my father and the rest of the bloodring I never knew. I want my son to see the snowcapped mountains and the endless forests. I want to take him home.'

'There is nothing and no one left to go back to.'

She glared at him, her lips moving but no words leaving her mouth. Valmyr regretted the harshness of his words. Could he tell her the horror that awaited her back in the forests? Could he describe it? Could he be the one to tell her that her father and everyone she dreamed of finding was dead?

'What do you mean?'

'None of us left by choice,' he said. 'And as far as I know... only three of us made it this far.'

'Why?'

Were there any words to explain the dread the first folk lived with? The flitting shadows in the dark, the havens swarmed one after the other, the bones of entire bloodrings gleaming in the moonlight. What would she gain by knowing that everything she dreamed of was gone?

Tell her, the dark voice hissed. Tell her and get out of this cave. East, little brother, east.

'Thank you for the food,' Valmyr said as he turned away. He pulled his furs over his shoulders and closed his eyes. When he opened them again, she was gone and he was alone, with only the hissing voice to accompany him.