Chapter 2
Sensation comes back in stages, and I drift in and out of consciousness. Pain is first, starting simply as agony throughout my body, but after some time it localizes to my back. Once I’m not as focused on the pain, I can hear things. From what it sounds like, two people are arguing, but I pass out again before I can make sense of their words. When I next wake, I can smell herbs all around me as well as the earthy post-rain smell I love. It is soothing and this time I fall asleep peacefully. When I next awaken, I can feel the sun shining on my face. I feel much better and open my eyes. The sun is the only lighting in the room, and it takes a long time for my eyes to adjust to the light. I look around at all the herbs hanging from the ceiling. As I look around the strange room, I see that it is a strange combination of semi-modern decor and medieval healing herbs. The wallpaper is faded pastel flower print and the floor has deep green carpet. The sheets of the bed I’m laying in match the walls.
Suddenly, I remember what happened in the woods. I try to sit up, moving too quickly and causing a wave of nausea to wash over me. I fall back, then sit up again, more slowly this time. I still feel weak, but I manage to make it about halfway to the door before I collapse. The sound seems to alert whoever healed me to my being awake because I can hear hurried footsteps from my place on the floor.
A woman walks into the room, about Tam’s age. The thought sends a new spike of grief into my heart. I try to speak, but only manage to croak out his name, too low for her to hear. She looks down at me with kind blue eyes, sympathetic for my obvious distress. She is short and somewhat plump, with an open and honest face and graying hair tied in a bun. Ridiculously strong for her age, she crouches and picks me up. I am carried back to the bed and, for the first time, she speaks.
“You won’t get far before you get better, you know. I refuse to let my patients hurt themselves further, no matter how they get here.” Her voice is soft but firm, with a hint of an accent I can’t place. She hands me a glass of water, and I drink greedily, hoping to help my voice. She leaves before I can say anything, and my slight movement exhausted me so much I soon fall asleep. When I next wake, I have a guard in the form of a girl about my age, tall and lithe and obviously strong enough to stop someone as weakened as me. She’s facing away from me, and my dedication to getting Tam comes back with a vengeance. I sit up, and the rustle of the covers alerts her that I’m awake. I still feel nauseous and I can feel the wounds on my back twinge, heavily numbed. Nervousness floods me that I have to talk to someone, and hopefully make them my ally before I can make it back to Tam. She turns quickly, long brown hair flying out behind her, facing me with a sword drawn.
I yelp, startled by the blade pointed at me. I look closer, inspecting the sword and its wielder. She seems to be about my age and her grip is startlingly steady on the hilt of the shining steel blade. It is unexpectedly high quality judging from the ripples on the steel. It’s slightly curved, and it doesn’t have many of the normal accessories and characteristics, so it has to be custom made. The young woman facing me with such obvious contempt is definitely skilled with a sword. I briefly wonder what I did to warrant such hatred, but I dismiss it as the futility of guarding someone nearly comatose from injury. I try to make peace, but before I can she starts interrogating me.
“Who are you?”
“Who sent you?”
“What do they want?” The questions are rapid-fire. “Why did you show up on the doorstep of the only healer in town?”
She steps forward with every question, making me flinch every time. I raise my hands in surrender, finally getting a chance to talk.
“My name is Myar and I would prefer to have a civilized conversation,” I say, sarcastic, “What is your name?”
“Not important.” her reply is scathing.
I decide the best course of action probably involves pacifying the person pointing a sword at me, which seems easiest to accomplish by answering her questions. I don’t want to give up too much though, so I keep my answers vague. “I wasn’t sent, I was traveling through the woods when I was attacked and, since I ran from the attack, the nonexistent people who sent me don’t actually want anything.” I’m angry now, thinking of how this girl is standing between me and helping Tam. I stand up, mostly through sheer determination.
“Now, I have to get back to the person I was traveling with, to see if he’s okay.”
She’s stunned by my proclamation and I study the first stranger I’ve talked to in ten years. She’s pretty, I guess, with petite features, amber eyes, and a thin-lipped, intimidating expression. Her arms, corded with muscle, are tanned from time in the sun. She’s about my age, but she moves with a confidence that comes from experience. She opens her mouth to speak, but the old woman walks in. She sees me standing, unaided, in the middle of the room and says, “Well, you’re determined to be somewhere.”
The unnamed woman walks up to me and gently takes my arm, leading me into a simple, unadorned kitchen. She has me sit down at a scarred wooden table and brings a bowl of soup out of a pot simmering on the stove. It’s chicken noodle soup, but it tastes like the chicken was smoked before it was put in the soup. It’s good and I know I’ll need my strength to get back to Tam. I try to thank the motherly woman but she waves it off. She sits across from me, scrutinizing my hands, which I desperately try to keep from shaking. I fail, and she looks at my hands again before meeting my eyes.
“Where are you so desperate to go?” Her voice is gentle but firm.
“The night I was injured I… I left someone behind,” I can’t keep my voice from breaking. I know Tam was killed by his injury, but some small part of me hopes I saw wrong, hopes he somehow survived. The older one ponders this for a minute, then seems to come to a decision.
“Evaline, take our mysterious patient to where he says he was attacked and help him look for his friend.”
My guard, leaning against the doorway, is not pleased with this proclamation. She pushes off the frame and eyes me, still seated. I take note of her name, put it in the back of my mind, just like Tam taught me. However little I like having my dour guard help get me there, I see the opportunity to get on her good side.
Evaline begins to protest, “Oriole, do I-”
The older woman, Oriole, cuts her off in a sharp tone, “Yes.”
I’m surprised by the fact that the older woman isn’t my guard’s mother, because they have a similar dynamic. I stay silent, perfectly willing to gather more information on the people I will have to spend time around.Oriole nods toward a pair of beat up sneakers by the table. I put them on and stand, walking toward the only other door in the room, what I assume is the exit. Evaline, disgruntled, follows me. I open the door and step out. The town is so small I can see the forest behind the houses across the street. I wonder, briefly, what made this town so special to Tam. The house I just stepped out of is bigger than most, with a second story and fenced backyard. I see a spot in the grass near the front door covered in blood. The amount there surprises me, and it’s older than I thought, so I must have been unconscious for at least a day and a night. I turn to Evaline, intending to ask, but her dark expression stops me.
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I can see a spot in the brush near the house where I crashed through. I turn to it and march into the woods, doing my best not to let my steps weave. We trek for a long time in silence, making it to the clearing a few hours later. The truck is still there but the tires have been slashed to pieces. I look around for the monsters we killed, for Tam, but there isn’t even any blood. Confusion floods my thoughts. Even if some woodland creature dragged off any bodies, there would be blood. There would be some evidence of the fight. Here it looks like someone lit a fire in an arc around a tree, slashed their own tires, and ran off. The charred ground is evidence I didn’t hallucinate, but I haven’t told the whole story yet, and there is one very disgruntled swordswoman behind me. I hear the soft scrape of a blade being drawn, so like what I heard that night, it cracks the dam I didn’t realize I built against grief.
I turn, slowly. Evaline is standing there with sword drawn, no longer disgruntled. Her expression now tells of wariness, of fear. I look around for attackers, for an enemy to fight, but there is no one. Evaline is looking at me like I’m the threat and I reach for my swords. They aren’t there. I didn’t have them on when I was bedridden and never asked for them. I know she could kill me here, deep in the woods, and it would be a while before anyone noticed. I belatedly notice that I have a T-shirt and sweatpants on, clothing that isn’t mine. With the shoes, clothes, and healing, I owe Oriole’s household far more than I want to. Evaline stares at me a while longer, then asks me something so surprising I don’t know how to react. “Who’d you leave behind?”
I don’t know if I could keep my voice steady, but I know Tam would want me to try. He always wanted me to solve my problems before they have a chance to get worse. I try to explain our relationship.
“His name was Tamarin. He was my mentor, the man who raised me.” I notice Evaline has gone as white as a sheet, like she’s seen a ghost. I stop.
“What-”
She cuts me off, “We need to get back to the house.”
“Why?”
“It’s a long story, and not mine to tell,” she walks off without another word. I follow, stumbling a little. I’m still not back to full strength. She walks faster than me the entire way back to the town, and when I do manage to catch up, she veers away before I can ask anything. I’m brimming with questions, and Evaline isn’t giving anything up, so I focus on walking without falling over. Eventually we make it back to Oriole’s house, but I’m too tired to even feel relieved. I walk in past the kitchen, through the doorway, and back to the bed, where I promptly collapse. I’m asleep before I even hit the covers. When I next wake up, it’s morning and Oriole is keeping vigil over me. My back hurts worse, so I probably pulled it during the hike. Oriole sighs, like someone has just told her bad news. She visibly composes herself. Her first words are eerily like Tam’s on that day not even a week ago that feels like it’s been an eternity.
“There’s a lot I need to tell you and some I don’t, but I will tell as much as I can.”
The proclamation is unexpected, but it makes me listen closer.
“I knew Tamarin, but I hadn’t seen him in nearly a decade. He was a friend, and he did more for us in twenty years than most do in a lifetime.”
Her words, her use of us, remind me that there was a group Tam worked for; people he was afraid of. It’s hard to imagine this matronly woman being someone Tam feared, although it isn’t a stretch to imagine her companion being like that.
“We arrived at the organization around the same time, and we became fast friends due to our shared inexperience. Times were hard, and we were the only two in our group of trainees. Tamarin was convinced there was a way to improve the group and its conditions without alerting our opposition. He was convinced there were people out there who could help us without expressly knowing who we were.”
I can tell she’s only telling me the bare minimum of what she can without sharing something specific. She notices my growing confusion and stops, then changes the subject.
“I can only assume Tamarin was training you, and I think you need something to regain your strength, so Evaline will help you continue your training.”
I try to protest, but she sends me a look as immovable as a mountain. Oriole leaves without another word, and I only have more questions.
The next day, earlier than I’m used to, Evaline rouses me with a bucket of cold water. She storms into the kitchen as I splutter and cough. I get out of bed and rummage around for something to train in and eventually I find appropriate clothing, my swords included, in a trunk at the foot of the bed. I stumble out of the room, groggy. I blink away sleep as I eat the bowl of oatmeal on the table. If Evaline’s anywhere near as harsh of a trainer as Tam, she’ll be ready to make me run if I’m not out there within minutes of her arrival, so I eat quickly. I walk out the front door and look around. The gate to the backyard is open, so I assume that’s where I’ll train. When I get to the yard, I’m struck with a bolt of homesickness because of what I see. It’s an obstacle course and training ring, almost as extensive as what Tam and I had.
Evaline’s in the ring, ready to spar, and I stretch before hopping the fence. She attacks as soon as I land, but I’m ready for her. I can tell she’s going easy, and I almost laugh as I deflect the first few strikes. She quickly adjusts to surpass me, and after about ten minutes of intense fighting, I know I’m outmatched. I go on the defensive, dodging and weaving with as little movement as possible. She’s faster than I am, but not as strong, so I do my best to wear her down. It almost works but, much to my chagrin, I lose ground. My back pain rekindles, essentially ending the fight. I stumble, fall, doing my best not to cry out and failing. I feel the point of a sword at my throat and open my eyes to look down it, at its owner gazing at me appraisingly. She nods, removes her sword. It seems I’ve impressed her. She has me face her in the ring once more, then shows me a route through the woods to run. Evaline is definitely less harsh of a taskmaster than Tam, but I am glad for the workout.
We train for the rest of the week, having a varied schedule to keep from neglecting anything. I grow stronger, but the wounds on my back keep me from returning to what I was before that night. They close up quickly, but Oriole says they’ve swollen and she can’t get the swelling to go down. I’m fearful that I might never be back to health, but one day, Oriole has an idea.
She has me sit down on the bed in the healing room, which I’ve used all week. She’s holding a small knife and a belt that’s obviously been bitten a few times, so that’s concerning. Oriole says she wants to lance the wounds on my back, hopefully draining the infection and letting them begin to heal. I don’t like the idea, but the concept of my back getting worse is far less appealing. I take my shirt off, bite down on the belt, and lay on my stomach so she can get at the wound. I feel the knife go in like a spike of fire, and I’m glad for the belt to bite. She pulls the knife out and starts pressing the wound, aggravating it further. I vaguely hear a door open, footsteps coming to the bed, and Oriole’s confused words.
“The wound seems infected, badly, but I can’t get anything to come out. Myar, I’m going to open a different spot, then try to get the other side.”
I manage a weak, agonized nod seconds before I slip into the sweet relief of unconsciousness. I get a sensation of waking in a dark room, but it’s fuzzy, like an imitation, so I know I’m dreaming. A man wreathed in shadows walks up to me, and the darkness thickens, almost tangible. Thousands of tortured, indistinct whispers emanate from him, but one of the voices is definitive. I recognize it, a voice I grew up listening to. The dark man speaks, not out loud but in my mind. I can give him back, you know. I can return your teacher, for a price. His voice is dark and smooth, filled with lies and trickery. I try to speak, but the darkness suffocates my words, so I try to speak with my mind, like the dark man had. I will get Tam back, and your price will not be paid. The dark man seems surprised by my voice, and all too interested. You are powerful, lightling, but foolish. My price will be paid. It always iss… The man’s terrifying, oily voice fades off with a hiss, and I wake up with a start.