Chapter 44
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
TYNAN
It was early in the morning when I opened my eyes.
Alina’s head was resting on my shoulder, her hair spilt over my chest like copper flames.
Her dark eyelashes extended their shadows down to her cheeks.
She looked so serene when she slept like that.
In the morning light, I could see the faint freckles that dusted her shoulders.
I could not help tracing her bare forearm, enjoying the softness of her skin.
Carefully, I moved her to the pillow and sat up on the bed. A new resolution occupied my mind. I had to make Sage talk. He was going to tell me everything I needed today. I had to find a way to protect Alina and the others, no matter what it cost me.
With these thoughts, I got dressed, and after stealing a last glance at Alina, I stepped out of the room.
In the kitchen, I found Victor sitting on the counter with a mug in his hand.
“Good morning,” I said, but he only frowned. “Tough night?” I asked.
“I don’t know what was in that wine Sol’s girl brought.” He closed his eyes as if it was too painful to talk.
I smirked and picked up a piece of toast.
“How can you eat?” Victor wiped his forehead with a sleeve.
“I didn’t get drunk last night,” I responded, pouring myself a cup of coffee.
“Are you going to see Sage?” Victor asked.
“Yes.”
“Do you need help with the building?” Victor peeled his eyes open.
“I’ll be fine.” I said, finishing my coffee.
“Don’t forget today is Hanoch’s birthday.” Victor massaged his shoulder.
“Yeah?”
“They’re planning a massive celebration for him in the castle. Everyone’s going to be there.”
I finished my toast looking out the window.
“I’m sure Alina and Frid want to go.” He winced.
I paused. There was no way in the world I would let Alina go by herself, not with someone like Denis still around.
“I’ll be back before then,” I said, and quickly washed my cup in the sink.
“You seem different,” Victor said.
“Hm?”
“More relaxed or something. I don’t know what’s happening between you two, but it looks like it’s going well,” he continued.
“Tell her I’ll be back soon.” With those words, I stepped to the front door.
When I approached Sage’s dilapidated hut, I quickly discerned that he was not there. His messy bed remained empty, and the fire was long extinguished in the fireplace. I frowned, looking at the furniture, an abundance of dirty rags, and empty bottles were scattered everywhere on the floor.
It was early in the morning and he still had not returned from wherever he was last night.
I had a faint idea where a person in constant need of alcohol could get some at almost any hour, and swiftly shifting, I flew back to the valley.
Five minutes later, I walked among several early risers who had already started working: preparing wood, feeding livestock, mending fences and roofs.
Young women with baskets of bread and vegetables going to the market square.
Crisp, chilly air rolled down from the mountains, sprinkling the road with snow dust as I approached the tavern.
It only took me a moment to realize that the door was already locked.
I stood by the entrance for some time, contemplating my options.
Slowly, I walked back, carefully examining every place a drunk person could go to.
At last, I noticed a shed half open, and a leg in an overly worn boot sticking out.
The sole was hanging by a thread and the rags of the clothes on the unconscious person made me stop.
I leaned in, finding Sage sleeping on top of the hay with a piece of the burlap over his head and shoulders.
I kicked his leg and raised my eyebrow when a variety of colorful swears sounded from under the cover.
“Get up, old man,” I said.
“Why won’t you leave me the fuck alone?” the voice mumbled.
“Because we had a deal.” I uncovered him and pulled him up by the shoulders.
Sage was barely awake when I dragged him up the hill. He still muttered insults, but I hardly listened as we reached the dwelling and I got him inside.
“I don’t know how you are still alive.” I threw him onto his bed and walked to the fireplace,to start a fire.
“Maybe I don’t want to be alive,” he snapped.
I shrugged my shoulders, unimpressed by his words. If he was trying to make me feel sorry for him, he was mistaken. I couldn't care less if he lived or died.
“You don’t know what it’s like.” The old man wrapped himself in his blankets.
“What?”
“You don’t know what it is to lose everything. You think you had it rough? You know nothing, son.”
“I’m not your son.” I scowled.
“You had a couple of rough days and you think you are somehow the one who suffered the most.” He watched the strips of dry paper ignite the kindling.
I picked up a log and pushed around the dry moss, ignoring him.
“I lost everything. I lost the one person who was everything!” he raised his voice.
It was difficult to get the fire going, the dampness made it almost impossible. I watched the smoke lifting up, filling the space between us with milky white fumes.
“Don’t you dare ignore me!” the old man shouted.
I looked back at him, suddenly feeling weary of his presence. “What do you want?” I asked.
“You are the worst thing that happened to me,” he blurted.
I crossed my arms on my chest, expecting him to continue.
“Everything was bad before, but after you, she completely lost herself to her demons. Do you know what it is to be bonded to someone and not be able to be with them? It’s worse than torture, it is simply impossible to endure.
And I had to do it. I had to watch her being married off to someone else.
Do you know what that feels like? It’s like burning lava eating up your flesh and you’re expected not to feel a thing.
Do you know how rare those bonds are? And knowing that you found her, and she has to be with you no matter what, and then you can't be together . . .
The pain is one thing, but there are also these visions, like you don’t know what is real anymore.
The visions of the future that could have been, the visions that play tricks with your mind, making you forget who you are.
I saw the two of us together, I had seen our children that would never be born; because you and your brothers were already here.
The longer it lasted the less of the future I could have with her.
And it’s all because of you, your family, your father, the clan.
‘The clan always comes first’, they said, ‘the mating bond would only affect the two, but the marriage would be for the good of the whole clan.’ She was from a very powerful family, and she was much more than I could ever be.
I think she knew that too. That’s why she yielded when her family forced her to accept the arrangement.
I had to watch both of them make their life together, your brothers being born, watching her with swollen bellies again and again.
If she was happy, if she were content with her position, it would have been less of a struggle, but she was miserable.
Your father did not let his marriage stop his conquests of women.
He had many of them, and she had to stay quiet and just take it.
She lost herself, but you were the last straw.
Your father brought one of his whores to the castle and she lived with him.
To the rest of us, she was introduced as a new maid, but everybody knew who she was.
She birthed you shortly after, before he got rid of her.
But you stayed, driving her mad. Do you know how many times I begged her to run away with me? ”
I clenched my fists, blood was pounding in my ears so hard that it felt like my head was going to explode. In the back of my mind, there were thousands of instances, speculations, and memories that slowly settled into one cohesive picture.
“I wanted to seal the bond but she never let me. I saw how you made her go insane, how she loathed even looking at you. You were the one who made her weak and vulnerable. She died because of you!”
The memories of my childhood poured into my mind and I could not fight them any longer.
Every night she punished me, every night the thick leather belt peeled off my skin layer by layer.
I remembered the terror every time she was in her dark moods.
The way she found every little thing to be provoking, the way I was sure that she wanted me dead.
How after a while I got used to the pain and learned just to take it.
That forced her to improvise and invent new ways of punishing me.
My father stopped her when he was around to witness it, but he was rarely present.
It lasted forever, until one day I grew strong enough to fight.
I caught her belt with my hand and looked at her like I was ready to hurt her back.
Then she understood that her power over me was over.
“You were bonded to my mother.” My voice sounded like it did not belong to me.
“Yes, I was. We were meant to be together, but you –”
“No.” I looked back at him.
“No? What do you mean? It was you!” The old man shouted.
“I have nothing to do with your weakness. If you were bonded, but you let her marry someone else. That’s on you, and you alone.
No amount of hating me will help you forget that you're to blame. And deep down you know it. That’s why you hate yourself so much that you try to kill that body that refuses to die.
Because you’re a coward, and you hate it, but you can’t do it yourself, you want liquor to do it for you.
The same way you wanted my mother to do it for you,” I watched his eyes grow wider.
“I . . . no.”
“Yes . . . it was you.”
With those words I stormed out of the house, shifted and soared up in the sky.