Sixteen
M y eyes blink open, heavy with disorientation, and as the blurred world comes into focus, the first thing I see is The Stranger’s dark hair hanging over his forehead as he hunches close to the flames.
I can’t tell what he’s doing. The pain radiating from every bone in my body is all-consuming.
My mouth is as dry as the Sivatag, which makes me wonder how long I’ve been unconscious.
I struggle to sit, but my aching muscles protest the movements, so I lay still, watching The Stranger work in the early morning light.
* * *
I wake with a start. The sun dips dangerously low in the sky, and I realize I’ve slept the entire day.
My throat is parched and my body sore, but the pain has faded some.
I wonder if I have The Stranger to thank for the relief.
My gaze finds him, and he sits hunched in concentration in the same spot I last saw him in, dark hair hanging in front of his sculpted face.
I part my lips to speak, but then I notice what he’s doing.
My entire body goes stiff, for laid out before him is Kaid’s fragmented and bare corpse.
I almost gag at the sight of him arranged in pieces on the dirt.
I haven’t seen his full form in one place in over a cycle, and seeing it positioned together yet separate like a puzzle makes me numb.
I’m lightheaded and sore, dehydrated and starving, but I ignore my needs as I crawl to Kaid’s side.
The Stranger’s eyes flick to mine. He says nothing.
His expression remains blank, but I feel his affection all the same.
He knows the storm raging within me. He understands the magnitude of this moment.
He resumes his task, and I realize he’s stitching Kaid back together.
His attention to detail is impeccable, the thread delicate, his stitches uniform.
So far, he has reattached Kaid’s head and left arm, and is working on sewing his left thigh to his hip.
That’s the leg that Valka split in two, so his shin rests below the knee, waiting its turn.
The right side of his body is still detached, and while The Stranger’s skill is more refined than mine, I cannot sit idly by.
He seems to sense my need to help and stares at the dirt beside him in expectation.
I crawl to the spot, and The Stranger passes me a sharp needle and strong but elegant thread.
He then lifts Kaid’s wrist into my lap and places his severed hand next to it.
He says nothing as I thread the needle, content to simply watch me, but when I pick up Kaid’s hand, the black magic stings my skin, and I drop it in surprise.
The Stranger catches his lifeless fingers and returns them to my thighs with a gentle expression.
That he managed to sew this much is a testament to his strength.
I can tell by the tenderness in his eyes that he’ll gladly accept the burning pain for me, but I need to help.
So, I inhale a deep breath and grip my husband’s flesh.
I work carefully in silence beside The Stranger, determined to make my stitches as beautiful as his.
At some point, a water skin and food appear next to me, and I use the excuse of eating and drinking to rest my hands.
The bite of the magic is unbearable; my progress slowed by Valka’s beating, but I don’t give up.
The air is warm as night falls, and I realize The Stranger must have transported us south.
Judging by his unhurried movements and lack of concern, I doubt Valka is coming for us.
I don’t know where we are. Perhaps neither does War, but that’s not why we’re safe.
I stare at my friend, the dark man who saved me even though he swore he couldn’t lend me aid.
He’s why no god hunts me. Why we’re free to take our time with my husband’s limbs.
I don’t know how I didn’t see it sooner.
Maybe I didn’t want to acknowledge it, but I’m no longer afraid.
I should be, but I’m not. In truth, I love The Stranger.
In his own way, he has become my father, my true and only parent.
There’s a deeper meaning to his term of endearment.
He rarely refers to me as Sellah, but always his child, and I finally understand why.
I once had a family who abandoned me. It seems I now have a family of my own making.
The sun sets, but we don’t stop until I’ve reattached Kaid’s hand and he has finished with his leg.
I want to continue working, but I can barely keep my eyes open.
My fingers burn from the black magic, and my body aches from Valka’s beating.
I should be dead. War’s blade had split open the flesh on my back, but I’m surprisingly whole.
I realize there’s so little I know about The Stranger as he wraps my blistered palms in salve-coated bandages.
His hands look far worse, bloodied and raw from the curse, but when I attempt to bandage him, he silently shoves me away.
He says nothing as he forces me to eat. He builds up the fire, covers Kaid’s nudity with a blanket, and then tucks me protectively into his side while I sleep.
I’m surprised by his affection. He rarely spent time with me face-to-face while I searched the realm, but something has changed.
The Stranger seems stronger, taller, darker.
His eyes are whiter yet full of life, of compassion, of danger, yet he holds me against his chest with the innocence of a parent comforting their child.
Not even my own mother cradled me when I lived in her home, and I don’t care who this dark man is.
He could burn the world to ash, and I would still love him.
* * *
The Stranger is already working when I wake.
I silently move to help him, but he shakes his head and points to the food and water with authority.
I don’t argue. His expression warns me I won’t win, and I doubt my blistered hands could hold a needle.
So, I obey, gathering the dried fruit and nuts before crawling to Kaid’s head.
I scoop it into my lap, my pants protecting me slightly from the magic, and I eat as The Stranger works.
I pretend my thief is merely sleeping, that he laid down on my thighs after a long day to rest. I try not to stare at the stitching on his neck or the pallor of his bloodless skin. My husband is sleeping. That is all.
Eventually, I fall asleep, my healing body exhausted and poisoned by black magic, and I spend the next night in a feverous fit.
I’m vaguely aware of The Stranger tending me, my injuries burning with infection.
I think two days pass while I suffer through delirious sweats, but when I finally wake, Kaid’s body is whole, and I can’t stop myself from scooping him into my arms. The stitching is so fine, so immaculate, that I can hardly believe he was once scattered throughout the realm, and I’m suddenly terrified.
I’ve been hoping for and dreading this moment.
This is when I’ll learn if I placed my faith in a liar or a power capable of returning the dead.
Either way, the outcome weighs heavy on my shoulders.
If The Stranger fails, I’ll have fought for nothing, but if he succeeds?
It changes everything, and not just for me. For the realm.
“I must warn you,” The Stranger says gently, and after so many days of silence, his voice sounds odd.
“I shall return him to you, but he may not be the same man you remember. He has been dead for seasons. Not only was his body carved into pieces, but so was his soul. The body is easy to mend, but the spirit? It will never be completely whole.” He stares at me as if he needs me to acknowledge my understanding, but all I can do is gaze at him numbly.
“And then there’s this.” He points to Kaid’s arm where the Beast of the Mitte Midagi bit into his flesh.
“Valka’s cuts were clean and precise, sliced by a god’s weapon while he yet lived, but this injury was inflicted after death when the soul was stagnant.
I cannot say what damage happened to him in the mouth of that creature. ”
“What…” my voice breaks. “What are you saying?”
“He may not be the man you remember.” The Stranger clutches my hands sympathetically.
“I don’t care,” I say with conviction. “I’ll love him no matter what.”
“That’s what I needed to hear, my child.” He caresses my cheek with fatherly affection. “Are you ready?”
“No.” It’s the truth. “But I refuse to live one more second without him.”
“Then I shall begin.”
He kneels beside Kaid’s corpse and places his broad palms over his heart. A tidal wave of fear crashes into me, and I feel like I’m choking. I’m afraid to watch, but I force myself to as darkness emanates from The Stranger. My heart has stopped. Or it is beating too fast? I can’t tell.
The smoke swirls around him in pulsing black waves as he begins to speak in an ancient and guttural tongue.
The ground shakes. The sky darkens. The world ceases to exist except for him and those words.
Those horribly dark and violent words. His voice is demonically cruel, and his white eyes flash in the blackness.
The smoke dances around him in thick pulses, then with a vicious command, it shoots for Kaid’s body.
I yelp as his corpse jerks unnaturally. This brutality is unlike anything this world has suffered. The darkness is so oppressive; I worry I’ll pass out under its weight. It’s too much. I want him to stop.
Lightning electrifies the sky, and the thunder that follows is so loud, it cracks the earth.
The dirt collapses as the land splits apart, but still, The Stranger calls to the darkness.
I want to snatch Kaid’s body away from him as it convulses at awkward angles, but I can’t move.
The Stranger’s power roots me to the ground, and all I can do is watch in horror.
When it feels as if I’ve been trapped in this hellish storm for days, the black shroud collapses onto Kaid, burrowing deep into his body.
His corpse jerks, and I want to scream for The Stranger to stop.
My husband has been violated enough, but just when I open my mouth to demand he end this, I realize the darkness didn’t move Kaid.
He did that of his own volition, and he scrambles backward on unsteady limbs, putting distance between himself and the Stranger before his arms give out.
I gasp as I watch him surge to life, and his eyes snap to mine like a cornered animal as he collapses in the dirt.
They’re wild with alarm, and I can’t tell if I’m overjoyed or horrified.
He’s alive. My Kaid is breathing, moving, seeing, but he stares between The Stranger and me as if we’re monsters come to devour him.
His pale chest moves awkwardly fast as panic consumes him, and a new fear settles over me. There’s no recognition in his gaze. Only terror. Has he been dead for too long? Has he forgotten this life? The Stranger said he might be different, but has his resurrection erased me from his memory?
With slow movements, I snatch the blanket from the dirt and move to cover his nudity.
He flinches, chest heaving as he fills his empty lungs, and his fear feels like an accusation.
What have I done? He was dead, nothing but severed limbs for over a cycle, and I forced him back to the land of the living with a darkness I don’t understand.
Did I do the right thing? Have I made his suffering worse?
Kaid watches me warily as he struggles to breathe, and I gently place the blanket over his legs. He studies me with uncertainty, staring deep into my eyes without recognition. I love him more than words can convey, and I long to pull him into my arms, but his panic has paralyzed me.
His gaze remains on my face, never turning toward The Stranger, who’s the more terrifying sight. It’s undoubtedly because the dark man frightens him, but my heart longs for it to be because he finds comfort in my features. With that hope, I find my voice.
“Do you know who you are?” My words are barely a whisper. I don’t want to spook him.
“Yes.” His voice is rough from disuse, but its deepness resonates in my chest, and I can’t stop a smile from curving my lips. I forgot how glorious that sound was.
“And…” I falter. “Do you know who I am?”
“Yes.” He pauses, and I hold my breath until my lungs hurt. “You’re my wife.”