Illborn, p.22
ILLBORN, page 22
He wanted to talk to Agbeth about these concerns, but she had enough suffering of her own to endure at the moment, without him adding to her worries.
Instead, he focused on looking after her, both of them benefiting from a few days of proper nourishment. He chose to stay at the camp, close to her side, throughout that period. Sometimes he would sit outside the lean-to, and his eyes would scan the surrounding areas, looking for any sign of the felrin.
And sometimes he would hear Agbeth moaning or involuntarily crying out from under her bed covers. And he was becoming ever more worried, for himself but even more so for her.
–
On the fifth day of her fever, Agbeth was beset by a severe seizure. It was something which had happened to her numerous times during her childhood. Something which, at its worst, had led to the permanent physical impairment on the left hand side of her body and face. But it had not happened to her for over six years.
Corin was outside of the shelter, chopping firewood, when he heard an unusual sound from inside of their lean-to. A repeated banging against the wall.
He moved inside, and was aghast at what he saw. Her entire body was stiffened, her arms and legs jerking, one arm thumping against the side of the lean-to. Her eyes were unfocused, rolled upwards slightly, moving back and forth with no sign of recognition. Her breathing sounded even more laboured, and her mouth was clenched shut.
Feeling terrified, he moved to her, turning his wife onto her side and holding her tightly as her body thrashed against his. Corin could well remember her condition from when they had been children, but he had hoped that they would never experience such moments ever again.
He knew that the words would not reach her, but he anyway whispered, ‘Shhhhh… my love… I’m here.’ Her arms and legs continued to jerk and thrash, but at least now his arms around her were preventing her from injuring herself against the walls.
The seizure continued for several minutes, but eventually it began to diminish in intensity. For a while afterwards, there were minor twitches in her arms and legs, before he finally felt her hand reaching up and pressing onto his. ‘It’s OK, Corin. I’m back.’
He kissed the back of her head, with tears in his eyes. This was his fault. These conditions, this cold, the fever, the fear of the felrin. And now the seizure. This was all his fault. For being a coward. For bringing her here with him. If he had chosen to stay and fight, in the Anath village, she would not be suffering like this now. Or if his strength of character had been sufficient to tell her that she could not come, could not volunteer to share his banishment. But no, he was a cowardly weakling, and it was Agbeth who was suffering as a result of this weakness.
He had brought all of this misery upon her. He felt certain that the seizure had been caused by all of the other distress and adversity which she was being forced to endure.
‘I’m sorry, Agbeth. I’m so sorry.’
She squeezed his hand. He could still feel the heat of her fever, but there was no anger or recrimination in her voice. ‘Don’t be. Just hold me, please.’
–
After the seizure, she began to recover, albeit slowly. However, Corin’s worry continued, and their food supplies were almost gone. He needed to hunt again soon, as a matter of urgency.
Whilst she was in her fevered state, he had been giving Agbeth the greater proportion of their remaining food. He had judged that her recovery was more important than his own nourishment, but now the gradual effects of cold and lack of sustenance were starting to deplete him as well.
Four days after the seizure, he knew that he would have to get back out to find food. Would have to leave her again, alone at the camp. By this time, Agbeth’s fever had reduced significantly from the heights it had ascended to, although she was still not fully recovered.
She had moved to sit outside the shelter on this day. She was seated next to the fire, huddled in her furs. It was a sunnier day again, although still cold. He came to sit with her.
‘I need to go back out hunting, today.’
She was staring out towards the lake. ‘I know. And I know that you haven’t been eating your share, Corin.’
He did not say anything in response, for a few moments. ‘Will you go back into the shelter whilst I’m away, in case-’
‘I’m not sure I can stand another day inside there. I need some fresh air today, to get well again. Need to take in these views. It’s so beautiful today.’
‘No, Agbeth, I need you to-’
‘No, Corin! Today, I’m going to stay out here. I’ll be careful. But I want to be useful again. I’ll try to make a hole in the ice on the lake, to fish.’ The lake was fully frozen over, now.
‘But it’s dangerous out here, you know that.’
‘It’ll be no more dangerous for me, here, than it’ll be for you, out there, in the woods. And I can’t stand the thought of another day sitting inside, doing nothing. Doing nothing, and worrying that you might be in danger.’
‘Agbeth-’
‘I said no, Corin!’ There was an edge of steel in her response, one of the few times that she had ever raised her voice against him, and he recognised that further protest would be worthless.
‘OK. But I have to go. I have to hunt. But if you’re going to be outside, near the lake, please keep your eyes on the treeline. Yes?’
‘Yes.’
‘And if you see anything even slightly concerning, you get back in the shelter, and you wait for me?’
‘Yes.’
‘OK. I promise I’ll be as careful as I can be, while I’m hunting. Promise you will be, too?’
‘I promise.’
He reached out and took her hand. ‘OK, then. Let’s both keep safe.’
–
The forest seemed vibrantly alive, within his mind, as he headed out that day. It was as if he had gradually, over time, become more alert and attuned to the life around him, more conscious of its presence.
As with his last hunting expedition, he was reluctant to move more than a few hundred metres away from their home, so that he could remain within hearing distance of Agbeth. He again proceeded with caution, continually scanning the area around him for any signs of the felrin.
Once he had walked outwards a few hundred metres, he started to follow a circular route, which maintained what he estimated to be a consistent distance back to the camp.
On this hunt, however, he felt his prey before he saw it. He was walking through a cluster of trees when he suddenly got a sense that there was a life near to him. In close range. Waiting. Hiding. Watching him. He got a peculiar sense of being out of balance again, as if he was seeing himself through eyes which were not his own. Feeling himself inside another – animal – mind. A mind that was observing him, and fearing him.
Without thinking, he nocked an arrow, aimed his bow towards some bushes on his left, and then fired. There was a thud accompanied by a high squealing noise, and then again a sense of an immediate disconnection.
He walked over to the bushes, crouched down, and there before him was a white fox. His arrow had gone through the side of its head, and had killed it instantly. He felt satisfied with the ease of the kill, although again confused by this odd sensation, which seemed to be occurring more regularly.
The fox would be sufficient to feed them for at least a couple of days. Therefore, as far as Corin was concerned, he could end today’s hunt. He wanted to get back to Agbeth as quickly as possible. He started to move with urgency back through the woods towards their home, still being careful to scan the areas around him for any signs of the felrin.
He quickly re-joined the path he had used on his journey outwards from the lake, seeing his own footprints in the snow, pointed away from the camp.
But he froze with horror as he saw what was next to them. Prints of a beast’s paws in the snow, paw-prints which were larger than a man’s. Next to his own tracks, but pointing in the opposite direction. Back towards the lake. Towards Agbeth.
He started to run in the direction of their home, legs pounding in the snow and moving him as fast as he could. Panic was gripping him.
And then, at that very moment, he again felt a connection form, and he was sharing an alien, feral, savage mind. He could feel its urgings; to hunt, to kill, to feed. Could see through its eyes as it moved around a corner of rock, onto a flat area of land next to a frozen lake. And there, before it, was prey. Large prey. By the lake. On two legs.
STOP! STOP! STOP! STOP! STOP!
Corin instinctively shrieked the command through his mind, as he witnessed the creature’s eyes focusing upon Agbeth. The order was less an articulated word than an image of ceasing movement, of freezing in place. But then he became aware that the felrin had sensed him, there, in its mind, and suddenly intense rage surged at him and he was ejected from its thoughts. And with that ejection the foreign image he was seeing in his mind, of his wife observed ravenously through the eyes of a beast, was gone.
Corin continued to sprint, the rocks marking the entrance to the lake area being no more than one hundred metres away, now. He was frantic. Terrified. He had never moved so quickly in his life.
And then Agbeth started screaming.
14
Arion
–
Year of Our Lord,
After Ascension, 767AA to 768AA
Within the blackness, the dream took possession of Arion, for the first time.
–
He is standing on a path, on the side of a mountain. Higher than he has ever been in his life, in the midst of a range of majestic peaks.
Four other people stand with him. Four other shining avatars of light.
There is silence all around. Silence in the world, silence in his companions.
He is walking now, inexorably climbing the winding mountain path. He walks with a sense of purpose, a sense that this might always have been his purpose.
Ahead of him, a brilliantly bright light appears, contained within an archway of breathtaking beauty. He gasps as the light shines into him and through him.
But still he and the four silent companions walk on, relentlessly pursuing the end of this path. Onwards. To the Gate.
And then he can see Him. In the Gate. Waiting. Watching. Golden, glowing, terrible, magnificent. He wants to kneel, to bow his head, to murmur his obeisance, but still silently he walks on. Closer, ever closer. So too do his companions.
The figure in the Gate moves His hand, a summoning gesture, and once again his body takes him forwards. And he can hear the clash of distant weapons, glorious ringing sounds given the shape of words.
Strength. Victory. Glory.
But then the gesture of His hand changes, and he is aware that something is wrong.
A single finger is raised. And he knows what he must do.
–
When he awoke, it was with an anguished sense of disorientation. He was lying on his back in the fighting square, throat hurting. But he had been somewhere. Somewhere other, somewhere more important.
Lord preserve us! Think! What was it?
He squeezed his eyes tight, trying to recover the memory, but it was elusive and fleeting. Then it had vanished, leaving him with a sense of frustrated anxiety.
He opened his eyes to find himself facing the close presence of Sergeant Kallin and Sendar Pavil, both of them leaning over him. Other cadets were crowded in behind them.
‘He’s back,’ announced Kallin. ‘Sepian! Sepian! Can you hear me?’
Arion groaned and nodded weakly.
‘You passed out,’ Sendar commented, anger in his voice. ‘That… thug… tried to throttle you, despite repeated orders to release.’
‘Can you breathe OK, Sepian?’ asked Kallin.
He realised that he could. He sat up, feeling his throat, which felt sore but no worse than that. ‘I’m… OK. Can breathe fine. Just my… pride hurt.’ He looked around, expecting to see Jarrett Berun with a smug triumphant look on his face, but the giant youth was nowhere to be seen.
‘I’ve sent him back to report to the Commander,’ stated Kallin, anticipating Arion’s question. ‘He disobeyed repeated commands from me to release. I had to get him off you.’
‘He kicked him off you,’ clarified Sendar, sounding satisfied. ‘I suspect that Berun’s feeling worse than you, right now.’
By the Lord! Not sure about that.
‘OK, we’re done here,’ announced Kallin. ‘Class dismissed! Everyone clear out.’
As the others began to file slowly away, Kallin and Sendar helped Arion to his feet. Sendar addressed the sergeant. ‘Sergeant Kallin. I would like to have a conversation with both you and the Commander. Urgently. Certainly, before Berun returns to our rooms.’
Sendar had once again spoken in that voice which effortlessly exerted his rank and authority, and Kallin nodded. ‘Very well. Come to see us at fourth hour.’
Arion wondered briefly what that could be about, but he was still recovering his breath and he could not find the energy to ask.
–
He found out later that Jarrett Berun was being switched out of their lodging room, at Sendar’s request. Prior to the fight, Sendar had favoured conciliation, but Berun’s actions in the wrestling contest had proven to be too much for the prince.
‘Is that what you spoke to Roque and Kallin about?’ asked Lennion Rednar, when the three of them were back in their lodgings.
‘Yes,’ replied Sendar. ‘In coming here, I’d promised all parties that I wouldn’t arbitrarily lean on my royal rank. However, from the outset I insisted that I would select my own room-mates. I’ve told Roque and Kallin that I no longer want to share a room with Berun, after his actions today. They’ve accepted that. Particularly given that Roque has now issued Berun with a formal reprimand over his actions, including for the comments he’s been making about his superior status. Which I also informed them about.’
‘But what about the things you said to me, earlier?’ asked Arion. ‘About making the peace?’
Sendar shrugged. ‘Look, Arion, I know that I asked you to make the peace with him. And that was despite seeing all of the sly little verbal attacks that he’s subjected you to in the last two months. But his actions in that fight crossed a line for me. It looked like he wanted to kill you. I don’t want to be sleeping next to someone who has that much rage inside of him.’
Arion blushed, thinking about his own occasional fits of temper.
‘He looked feral,’ commented Lennion. ‘I know I lost it a bit in my fight, but he looked like he hated you.’
‘Yeah, I think he does. But he sure gave me a heck of a beating,’ said Arion, still red-faced. ‘I thought I’d be able to give him a better fight than that.’
Sendar shook his head vigorously as he replied. ‘Nonsense! It was obvious to me, and no doubt to Kallin, that you’ve had no unarmed fighting training previously, whereas Berun has clearly had plenty. It was an extremely unfair contest and Kallin should have ended it earlier, which I told him in no uncertain terms. He should have put Berun up against me.’
‘So, what happens now?’
‘They’re going to move him into a room with three of his more devout acquaintances,’ answered Sendar. ‘It will probably suit him better. They’re going to transfer Roliss Sonder out of that room and into here. He seems like a decent sort of fellow, and it might mean things feel a little less tense in here.’
Arion nodded, not feeling at all upset with the outcome.
–
Berun came to the room later, to collect his gear. At first, he packed silently, but after he had collected his possessions he turned towards Arion and Sendar, anger visible on his face.
‘So, the two of you have got what you wanted,’ he stated. ‘Got rid of me.’
Sendar frowned, but replied calmly. ‘I didn’t want this outcome, Jarrett. But your actions earlier crossed a line, and I think it’s better for everyone now if we physically separate you and Arion.’
‘This is about my religion and my family, isn’t it?’ Flickers of hot rage were in the larger youth’s eyes.
‘Not at all,’ replied Sendar, again sounding reasonable. ‘I commend your religious devotion, and have nothing but the utmost respect for your noble house and family.’
‘No, but his family don’t,’ replied Berun, looking at Arion. ‘We’ve all heard the insults his father has made about my mother, calling my father a traitor for marrying her, which implies I’m a traitor. Which he repeated today. And none of you three show the proper level of religious devotion. How is it that I’m the only one who’s been regularly praying in this room? How can a prince of the realm care so little for the true faith? No wonder our whole country is under threat of excommunication from the Holy Church, if that’s the example our royal family sets!’
‘No one thinks for a second that you or your family are traitors, Jarrett, that’s nonsense,’ replied Sendar, still calm, although Arion sensed that there was more tension in his words now. ‘But with your comments about my faith and the Holy Church, you must know that you’re crossing another line. One which I will not tolerate. I have nothing but respect and devotion for the Holy Church, as does my father, and we’re both true followers of the faith. And I would advise you not to say anything further on this matter, lest your comments do stray into territory which may indeed be deemed treacherous.’
Jarrett Berun glared back at him, but he did not respond.
Sendar continued, in a more conciliatory tone. ‘Can I please suggest that we all move on from this, Jarrett? I don’t bear any ill will towards you, and neither does Arion. I think you’ll be better suited to your new room-mates, who are as equally and commendably devout as you are. And in time, I hope that all of us will again be friends.’ He stood up, holding out his hand.
