Silver Shadow: Chapter Four

Yay for chapter four. XD

Chapter Four

Sarran plodded along in the pale moonlight, trudging through the ruins of what had been his home. He had reached the village just in time to offer a helping hand after Avain's ridiculously far fetched scheme had somehow worked. But by the time the fighting ceased, the other boy was nowhere to be found, so Sarran had gone looking for him. It took longer than Sarran thought it should have to find him. The boy looked tired and a bit worse for wear, but he had clearly seen a healer. The numerous cuts and scrapes he had acquired since that morning had been largely tended to, and he had donned a clean set of clothing. Sarran had crossed paths with a healer himself, and the woman had deemed the cuts on his hand deep enough to require magical tending. Thankfully, two of the few baeleen’kar with the gift of healing had survived the raid.

Avain sat in the dirt with his back braced against one crumbling wall of the ihari-kar, one leg stretched out before him and the other knee pulled up to his chest. His head drooped, and he had flung one arm over his knee. The other rested on the haft of the shikar at his side. Sarran moved to stand over him, and Avain’s lack of response startled him.

“Big day?” Sarran queried blandly.

Avain rolled his eyes up to glance at Sarran’s face before slouching over once more. “Go ’way,” he muttered.

“What’s this?” Sarran lifted a single brow. “You’re a hero now, Avain. That’s no way to greet an admiring fan.”

“Leave me ’lone, Sarran. You were right, okay? It was stupid.”

“What do you mean?” Sarran asked, honestly curious now. “You saved the village, Avain. People respect you now; they pay attention to you. Everyone got all upset when you just disappeared like that. Isn’t that what you’ve always wanted?” Sarran sat down beside the other boy, leaning back against the cool stone of the ruined building he had spent so much time in over the past three years.

“Maybe. I think so. But not like this. So many people died, and there wasn’t really any reason for them to. Maybe if I’d listened to you, like Emar said, they wouldn’t have died. Maybe you had a better idea, and I just wanted to do things my way and get all the attention. But if people have to be hurt and killed just so the rest of them like me, I’d rather that everyone hated me again.”

Most of the surviving baeleen’kar had fallen in the final clash with the Crestilians. Only five remained: Sarran, Avain, the two healers, and the badly wounded Emar. The invaders had ritually slaughtered the entire council. Maybe Avain was right. Maybe if he had waited and they had carried out a well-thought-out plan, more of the villagers would have survived. But then again, maybe not. The boy’s reckless assault had certainly taken the Crestilians by surprise, which was about the same thing as a well-coordinated strategy tried to do. And who knew, maybe the Crestilians had anticipated a carefully executed attack and Avain’s wild charge had actually saved those who remained. Whatever the case, what was done was done.

“Look, Avain, you can’t just undo things. Once a thing is done, it’s done, and that’s the end of it. You understand?”

“Sort of.” Avain lifted his free hand to his face and rubbed at his eyes. “You can’t go back and do it again, or not do it again, or whatever. Because, I guess, you only go one way, and that’s forward. So, I did what I did, and you did what you did, and everyone else did what they did, and you can’t go back, so the only time you have is right now, and if you spend now worrying about then, you’re just wasting now and nothing happens to then. And that’s when then starts messing things up, because you’re not using now like you should and then is taking over now, and then…er…I mean…”

Sarran took a deep breath, fighting down a nagging headache. “Sure. Whatever. Something like that.” He rose, dusting off the seat of his new pants.

Avain leapt to his feet as well. “So what you’re saying is that I should just let go of then and focus on now, because then is then and now is now and now can’t hurt then but then can hurt now.”

“…Yeah…”

“Okay! So what’s the next thing we do now?!”

“Right now, everyone’s mourning over the dead.”

“But…you just said…I mean, they’re already dead, and worrying now won’t change then, but they’re wasting now worrying about then even though now can’t change then!”

“I didn’t say it made sense,” Sarran huffed, rubbing his temples. His head had begun to throb and pound in cadence with Avain’s ceaseless chatter. “The people who died are already dead, but the people who killed them are still out there somewhere. Everyone else is too busy worrying about the dead to take care of the living.”

“Everyone but us, anyway.”

“Exactly. The next thing to be done is to chase down the people who did this and make sure they never do it again.”

“And we’re the only ones who can do that.”

“Right.”

“So let’s go already!”

“It’s not that easy,” Sarran protested. “We need supplies and provisions, and all I know about Crestil is that it’s south of here. Somewhere.” And I’m tired as hell.

Avain mulled over this information for some time before nodding once in affirmation. “I know what to do! We’ll ask Emar—he knows everything.”

Though not as sure of their haryth’s omnipotence as Avain was, Sarran could not argue the benefits of consulting the man. “All right. Let’s go.”

The two boys vaulted the remnants of the wall of the ihari-kar and picked their way through the rubble to the street where the survivors had set up camp. The healers greeted them with a sort of weary warmth that Sarran shrugged off and Avain soaked up. They found Emar lying on a pile of salvaged furs and blankets not far off.

Avain bounced up to the wounded man. Sarran stood off to the side. “Haryth! Are you feeling better now?”

Emar smiled weakly. Of all the people in the village, he had always shone Avain the most kindness. As haryth, Emar ranked just below the council of elders. With them gone, Sarran supposed the burden of running what was left of the village fell to the pale man who lay before him. Emar had always been a rather radical bael’kar, but maybe that was for the best. Maybe it was time to move away from the old rituals and make up new rules. Especially now, with so few baeleen’kar left. Xenophobia could not maintain so sure a hold as it had in the past. Maybe people like Avain—halfbreeds, raskha—maybe they would become necessary now. Maybe Emar, with his gift of Sight, had Seen these things long before anyone else.

Maybe I really, really, need some sleep.

“Avain…I am healing. How are you faring?”

“I’m fine. Listen, haryth, we need some help.” Avain glanced about, then lowered his voice and shifted closer to his teacher. “We’re going after the Crestilians who did this.”

“What?!”

Avain made shushing noises and soothing gestures, tossing a furtive look over his shoulder at the two healers. They did not seem to have noticed the outburst, huddled together as they were against their misery.

Emar coughed, then joined Avain in his whispering. “What d’you mean, you’re going after the bastards who did this? You’re just gonna get yourselves killed, you stupid boys!”

Avain puffed out his chest, and even Sarran straightened up a bit. “We will not! We’re baeleen’kar now, just as much as you are.”

“Why on earth would you do such a thing right now, anyway? This should be a time for mourning, not…not hunting.”

“If we do not follow closely, the trail will be lost, haryth,” Sarran explained patiently. “You should know this; you taught it to us.”

“That’s right,” Avain added, nodding earnestly. “And besides, we don’t have anyone to mourn, so we shouldn’t waste now worrying about then.”

Emar looked confused and glanced at Sarran for clarification. The boy rolled his eyes and shook his head, and the haryth took the message and did not question. “You may be right, both of you. Perhaps…perhaps you seek closure now in your own way, differently than the rest of us.” Emar nodded sagaciously. “And you are right—you are baeleen’kar now, and I was wrong to question your skill. Very well, then. As the rankingbael’kar present, I will assign you two to your first mission: to hunt down whoever is responsible for this…mess…I don’t care if you have to go to the very king of Crestil himself, I want to know who did this. Starting tomorrow. Don’t come back until you find out, you hear?” The boys nodded, Sarran reserved and Avain eager. Emar relaxed back. “Right. So, what did you need help with, Avain?”

Avain fairly bounced up and down with energy. Sarran envied him—the one thing in which Avain far surpassed him was definitely stamina. “The problem is, see, that, uh, we don’t exactly know…I mean, that is to say, we sort of…I’ve never…and Sarran…”

“We don’t know how to get to Crestil.”

Emar sighed and shook his head.

----------

“Mommy…” the little boy rocked back and forth, his knees drawn up tightly to his chest. Dirt and soot smeared across his face and his bare arms and feet, and fat tears cut clear trails down his cheeks, glittering in the reflected light of the raging fire before him. Men darted to and fro, hauling buckets of water and beating back the flames with lengths of soaking cloth.

And the boy could do nothing but sit there and cry.

“She’s not your mother.”

The boy looked up, startled, and felt his stomach twist with a strange, uncomfortable sensation. “W-what d’you want, Sarran?” he hiccuped through his tears.

The other boy stared down at him, his dead black gaze as hard as a brick wall. “She’s not your mother. Your mother’s already dead. She died the night you were born.”

“That’s stupid! You’re lying!”

“Why would I? It’s just the truth. My father says you’re cursed. He says you’re a raskha.”

“I am not! I’m just as much one of you as you are!”

“No, you’re not. You’re a halfbreed. You’re not like us at all. Your father was an outsider, you killed your mother when you were born. And now look at what you’ve done. She never wanted you, you know. My father says the council made her take you. Because no one else would. And now you’ve gone and killed her, too.”

“That’s a lie!” the boy cried, leaping to his feet.

“Is it? How did it happen, then? If you didn’t kill her, why are you sitting here crying?”

There could be no arguing with the cold logic before him. The boy felt the tears start up anew. He had killed her, hadn’t he? After all, he was the one who had started the fire, intentionally or not.

Sarran seemed to read his thoughts from the silence. “You did kill her, didn’t you? Just like you killed your first mother.”

“That’s a lie!”

But Sarran just shook his head, as calm and cool as ever before. “No, Avain. You’re a lie.”

----------

Avain woke with a start and rolled over, hauling himself to his feet as he looked around wildly. No, there was no fire, and he was no longer an orphaned six-year-old. Now, he was an orphaned twelve-year-old. And a bael’kar. And he had a mission.

But something about the mission bugged Avain, and he picked his way past the sleeping Sarran to where Emar rested.

“Haryth?” the boy whispered loudly.

Emar turned his head toward Avain. “Yes?” he replied, much more quietly.

Avain sat down in the dirt very close to his teacher. He liked Emar, and he thought Emar might like him, too. At least, more than everyone else did. “Haryth, I know hunting down those bad people is important, but shouldn’t we be doing something else? I mean, it doesn’t so much matter if you take care of a threat if there’s nothing here to threaten, and why would anybody want to threaten this?” Avain waved a vague hand to indicate the ransacked village.

“Avain, that is not our way,” Emar informed him gently. “While you make a valid point, it is our duty to protect Ellys’ghymn, not just this village, and that duty must come before our own personal desires. I, too, wish to reconstruct our homes, but we must not allow that wish to interfere with our responsibility. It is as I have always told you, Avian. We are gifted with a great power, and we must prove ourselves worthy of that gift. This is how you do so.”

“Yeah, but, what about the others?”

“What others, Avain?” Emar’s voice grew suddenly a lot cooler, a lot less friendly.

“You know, some of the others had to have survived.”

“How? By fleeing? If they fled, they are no longer of our kind. That is our way.”

“But that can’t be right, haryth. What about the little kids and their moms and dads who didn’t want them to die? What about all the old people? There are lots and lots of bodies missing, you know. And we looked all over the village. There have to be more of us out there!”

Emar shook his head stubbornly. “No, Avain. It is not our way to—”

“Well, it should be! Haryth—”

And that was when Emar gave him the look. Avain, who had never backed down from anything ever before, felt his mouth go dry when his teacher fixed him with a look he had never used before, but that Avain found far too familiar. It was a look Avian had seen a thousand times in the other students, in their parents, in the council, a look that said, as clearly as though it had been spoken, “I’m better than you, and there’s nothing you can do about it.” It was a look Avain had fought over and against many, many times, but he had never expected to see it in Emar.

“Avain. It is not the way of the bael’kar to flee from battle. Now, if you do not wish to accept your mission as it is, you might as well go and join those who are no longer with us.”

For a moment, Avain found himself sorely tempted to do just that. But he didn’t.