20. Resting Place
RESTING PLACE
The rhythm of the hunt was simple. They slept in shifts during the day, moved in the early morning, and hunted at night.
Tyralk wanted to be far away from the settlement before they let me try calling the monsters.
And it was the wrong time of year, as we had been told. Day after day, we saw nothing.
Larrakh hung on the fringes, looking like she’d approach, responding to Vrathgar’s glares with silence.
“You know she saved my life,” I muttered to him, the seventh morning by the fire.
“She doesn’t get free-kidnapping chits to redeem with the quartermaster.” He handed me the water skin. “She is not flinching from unfairness. She knows what she’s done.”
Some of the tension was gone from his shoulders, his face. He did better out here than in the enclave, better in the open air.
“I thought she was like a little sister to you.”
“If you had a little sister, would you let her murder your wife?”
Tyralk was speaking to Nara across the clearing, tired. This expedition had been heavy on him. He expressed no regret for snatching Vrathgar away, but there was something hanging in the balance, some valor or position that he was giving up with each slow and gameless day we crept forward.
“You could talk to him,” I said.
He frowned. “Why?”
“Because you’re hovering over me like a mother hen. And because Larrakh wants to apologize, and she won’t while you’re here to bite her head off.” I shrugged one shoulder. I could do that much. “Because he needs to know that you forgive him, too.”
“That kid,” he muttered.
I fed a twig into the fire. “You are taking on disadvantages being married to me right now. You should take the benefits.”
“Which benefit is this?” There was no ire in his voice.
“I’m kin-keeping.”
He sighed. But he didn’t move. “Are you sure you’ll be alright?” he muttered. “With Larrakh.”
“She can’t drop me down another hole.”
“That’s not what I mean.” His eyes bored into me.
“I won’t…I won’t bite her?” I tried for humor, but his demeanor didn’t break.
“I don’t want you to put yourself in positions where you’re afraid.”
Oh. “I think…I’ll be fine,” I said. It was strange, that something that had hurt me so badly didn’t seem like one of the things that had left me with extra fear.
It was strange that I had echoes in my body every time I rolled over or had to relieve myself in the woods, but I was still more afraid of Todderick than of Khal’s much stronger baby cousin.
“I’ll let her speak to you,” he said. “But if she upsets you, start coughing or something, alright? I’ll come back.
” He stood up before I could find the words to answer.
I watched Tyralk’s eyes open with surprise as he approached and Vrathgar slap him on the shoulder, and then heard the younger one laugh, a better, less aching sound.
I felt Larrakh approach before I saw her. “May I sit?” she said, quiet.
I nodded.
There were traces of Khal’s mother in her, the line of her jaw, the angle of her brows. I didn’t let the knot in my stomach show on my face. She was so sturdy, so grounded, and so much stronger than me.
“It seems like you are still in pain.” A slight accent tinged her words.
“You speak Common well.”
“I grew with Khal.”
I nodded, like that made sense.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “Sareet…we were not supposed to hurt you.”
Vrathgar would have had something to say to that. Vrathgar would have had something to do. But what was I supposed to answer? “I’m sorry for being more fragile than you’d expected? Yes, I am very easy to harm?”
“It does not fix it, apologies,” she muttered.
Her fingers combed into the earth. “You have my oath, I would not do this again. I’d undo it if I could.
But truly, Vrathgar’s-wife, I did not imagine you badly hurt.
I thought…scrapes. A bad ankle. Mezha dislocated her shoulder. Nothing like…” She clammed up again.
“It’s not normal to maim yourself?” I sounded calm. “Isn’t it a deadly test?”
“I thought if I hung back and watched out, I could make sure nothing bad occurred. But then it took you so long, and you were just hanging there, and I didn’t know…
” She was blinking a lot, like she held back tears.
“It is a dishonor, to be pulled out of the pit. Especially before sunrise. I knew I wouldn’t want…
so I left…I should have pulled you out right away, but I was wrong. ”
“You cared about Vrathgar,” I said. His eyes found me, across the clearing, and I made myself smile. I didn’t want him to charge back. “It makes sense,” I said, “not wanting him shamed by me.”
“That’s not it at all!” She gripped my elbow, realized she had grabbed me, let go.
I met Vrathgar’s eyes across the camp, as he’d started to rise, shook my head. He sank back, his mouth a hard line.
“That’s not…that’s not it.” Beside me, Larrakh swallowed.
“It’s how we prove that we belong. All of us.
It was very scary. No one told us anyone was looking out, that people weren’t going to die.
All of us did it. The hard thing, the struggle, the fear, the climb, it made us Drashik.
It showed we could be trusted, to fight, to protect one another.
It changed us in the eyes of the people from children to…
to women. To warriors.” There was red around her eyes.
“And here you were, with no one wanting you to belong. With everyone acting like you were a poison from outside. And Vrathgar…Vrathgar would never ask you to do the hard thing. But once you’d done it, you’d be one of us, nayah?
No one would be able to say you were a weakling, no one could say you didn’t belong. So I…” Her lips sealed again.
“But I was a weakling. And now we have this problem.”
She was shaking her head. “Is our enclave so lacking that we can’t protect one weak thing?
You should not have to be strong to exist.” She looked up, seemed to realize she’d said something wrong.
“I’m sure you were trained in different things.
He said you helped with Grezha. And I…I can’t sing like you can. ”
I laughed, a little, quiet. My singing was not going to be a strength that won me friends. It hadn’t even won me Vrathgar.
“I was wrong.” Her hand pressed my arm again, and her eyes were earnest, fierce.
“I was wrong to try to make you like us. But you will never be unsafe around me again. I promise. And you…you are allowed to be mad, like he is mad. You were hurt.” Her gaze was so intense.
I wished I could care about myself as much as Vrathgar’s kith seemed to.
“I don’t have the strength to be angry,” I got out. “I just…don't want him to lose anyone because of me.”
She looked back across the fire. Two of the others were talking to him, some gentle mock argument. He dodged as Krashak reached for his head. He was grinning at them. His eyes strayed again to me.
“You really care about each other,” she murmured. “I can see it, the way he watches you. He never fussed over anyone like that before.”
“He feels beholden to me.”
“He is beholden to you.” She frowned at me.
Vrathgar was still gauging me from across the fire, and I whispered to her. “I think we should embrace, or something. So he sees you’re okay.”
“Are you…” She hesitated.
“Whatever happens to me, I need him to lose as little as possible. I don't know you well, but I know I don’t want him to lose you.” I meet her eyes. “Is that enough?”
“That is a lot.” She leaned in, careful, the most awkward hug of my life. Her arms were solid. “We’ll be reaching a resting place soon.” Her chin pressed my shoulder. “Sometimes the magic of the deep places helps healing.”
I said something noncommittal, and she pulled away. Vrathgar’s eyes met mine, and I smiled again. He’d keep his friends. I had managed that much.
“You’re a kind person,” Larrakh said, “against all that I’ve heard about your folk.” It felt like she was so far away. Maybe I was just tired. “I’m sorry that your meeting with our people was not kind.”
My voice crept out, like a hunted thing.
“He was kind enough.” If everyone already thought I was broken and weak, it shouldn’t matter what I sounded like.
“When we thought he’d die,” I said, “his last wish was for me to find your people. He said if I bore a child, your clan would claim them.” When I looked at her, her eyes were stricken.
“I don’t think your people deserve him. I love him too much for that.
But I want him to have what he deserves, and that's not losing you.”
She nodded, pulled away.
I was awake this time when our party reached the tall circle of standing stones, when my husband pulled me, so carefully, up into his arms. “Hold on,” he said.
“I’m not sure how this works when you’re awake.
” They were walking around the circle, muttering, touching the rock.
His voice rolled and rumbled in the Orcish, like a chant, or a prayer.
And then the rock lit, faintly, a light traveling over everything, and we were in complete darkness.
They were talking to each other, and he murmured, “This will be a good place to rest.” Someone called to him in Orcish, and he responded. I found his wrist and tapped it, twice.
“Ach, that’s right,” he muttered, and yelled something to someone. A lamp lit.
This was larger than the place where the Droth had threatened us, a long hall with rooms branching off, some doors intact, some broken.
They were splitting up, talking and laughing.
“What are they doing?”
“This is a sanctuary. It’s not like above, where we have watches. They’re choosing how to take the rooms.”
“Where do we go?”
He glanced down, before turning to survey the doors. “We’re a married couple, ‘Nora. They expect us to take one for ourselves.” He paused. “Unless you wanted to room with Brezha and Larrakh.”
Heat stained my cheekbones. I chose to be selfish once more. “No. I want you.”
He nodded, like that was normal, and pushed open one of the few solid doors.