Shadows of the Scriptures

SIXTEEN: The Cycle of Eyrula

“Come again?”

“How many times must I repeat myself?”

“As many times as it takes for us to believe you.”

“You don’t believe me?”

“That’s not the point.”

“Then what is?”

“That we’re not sure whether to believe you.”

“I healed myself.”

“Come again?”

“Knock it off, Doin!” Sadh Bornak put his rear on the berth besides her, penetrating her being with those grey Tehzvan eyes of his. Finally Addie understood what was so compelling about his eyes that enthralled her over and again: there was water set deep within their greyness, and it was like he cast one pebble into the water for each time he looked at her, and the shudders that caused in the water were friendly and they were inviting, and they invited her to take a dip. Or maybe the drink was still in her. “How do you feel, Addie?”

She thought about it. “Confused,” she said, deciding to be honest.

“As you should be. Are you certain – ?”

“That I healed myself, yes, I am. This talk is all circles and no honey.”

That had been Master Harl’s phrase. All circles and no honey, he would say in company he disliked. Humph. I’d sooner befriend a noble than be part of this witless banter.

“You are right,” Sadh admitted, sighing. “But this is most unusual.”

“Makes perfect sense to me,” said Disha. She was standing near her amber-haired man, pretending she was inspecting her nails. In truth, Addie knew she was scared . . . she could sense it, somehow. Disha’s disquiet. Or, again, maybe the drink was still in her.

“'Course it does, darling,” said Doin. “It does to us all . . . I think. Who’s going to tell her?”

“I’m sitting right here,” Addie pointed out.

“I told you she holds power more than I’ve seen in my life,” Disha said, pretending now that the subject of her sentence did not exist. “I would go so far as to say I saw this coming.”

“Saw what coming?” said the girl who did not exist.

“This means bad things, doesn’t it?” muttered Sadh. He looked terribly tense. “Means it’s near.”

“What’s near?” said the girl who did not exist, snapping her swordhand fingers – the ones she had inexplicably healed – in front of the man. Sadh was not phased.

The door to the cabin opened a mingy bit, and seemingly not by any hand. “Be quick about it, now.” Balwen’s voice. “Not gonna stand watch all night.”

“This may actually take a while, pal,” Doin told his voice. “Keep staving off them eavesdroppers.”

“Sonuvabitch.”

“I think,” Sadh said even before the door had shut, “that it should be the minstrel who does the telling.”

Gryphik stood towards the back of the cabin, none of his usual cheer on him. A lantern sitting to his left shed ominous shadows across his face, shadows which danced as Guese Thazeon swayed ever so slightly on the Ocean To Drown All Oceans. He closed his dark eyes and began to recite something by memory, lines which meant naught to Addie.

“When all hope is lost. When the skies turn grey and the heart yearns warmth. When pain is a familiar rival. When each breath breaks into puffs and you are not truly yours. I will send for you my Children, my Children there for you, my Childs.”