Gallel's Heir

Chapter 16.1: Under Carrots

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 The sun rose hotly, but Lianna didn’t care. Hot or cold, she wondered how Mama was doing in the Otherworld. Harren had returned and said she’d found a place for them to go. One place was as good as any other, or nowhere at all. She helped lift Canúden into a pathetic little cart, because Harren told her to. His muscles tensed, his eyes fluttered, and he ceased movement. His breathing became shallow. She climbed in after him. It was better if she could hold him.

 “No, you’re not going to ride in the cart. I’m too hurt and tired to pull all three of you.”

 “Three?” Lianna stepped to the ground.

 “Pellan, too. We’re going to sell her.”

 Lianna’s eyes stung, and she found her way by mechanically pushing the cart. Pushing it was the same as not pushing it, because she was made of sand, and sand didn’t feel anything. Canúden groaned or grunted at every bump, and moaned the rest of the time. Vines and roots covered the path, so there were lots of bumps.

 Pellan lay under the leaves in the bushes nearby, being disturbed only by bees and large ants that crawled around gobs of blood at her nose and mouth. Harren hefted the leopard’s stiff body from the shrubs, and Lianna helped her lift the heavy animal into the cart beside Canúden. He buried his face into her fur. It was Mama’s leopard, so it was his, too, and she had saved his life. But not Mama’s.

 In the early afternoon, they came to a small, ancient cottage tucked behind thick trees. It hardly seemed real, and someone coming out to greet them would have seemed strange. Only she and Harren and Canúden existed in all the world. Harren tried the door; it fell open, swirling dust everywhere. They coughed. Canúden moaned as Harren dragged him out of the cart. He lay in the grass. Maybe Harren expected him to walk.

 Inside was dark, though sunlight filtered through holes in the thatch. It smelled of dirt and mold and something rank. Lianna crept inside, then curled onto a pile of leaves and mushrooms. Dozens of spiders crawled onto her, and she didn’t care. Mama wouldn’t care if spiders crawled on her.

 Harren grunted, then helped Canúden inside. He wobbled only a few steps before collapsing next to Lianna. “Canúden!” Lianna cried. “Oh! Please be all right.…” She wiped his forehead with her hand, and he managed a smile.

 “I… thought I saw… your Mama…” he uttered. “Light, so much light… ahh… it was… magnificent… then you brought me back… to the pain…”

 “Oh, Canúden, I never meant to…”

 “You look so like her…” His wandering eyes focused on her. “So like my Dylin.” His face wrinkled in agony.

 Lianna checked over his body, and found two broken ribs, and a broken arm. His face burned where there were blotches and iced where it was pale. She did what she could to set and immobilize his arm, ripping cloth from her own skirt and wrapping it tightly around.

 The numbness in Lianna’s limbs grew. Her heart was sand, sand which blew swirling up into her brain so that she couldn’t think properly. Sand which pierced her mind and stung her eyes. Sand which weighted her limbs. She couldn’t tolerate the numb tension, and finally spoke. “What are we going to do, Harren?”

 “I don’t know.” She shook her head. “Get up, we need to clean this place, see if there’s anything worthwhile.”

 Lianna got up because Harren told her to. Canúden moaned.

 Chipped mugs and plates cluttered a graying, splintered table which stood against the wall near a crumbling fireplace. Spiders crawled over the table and up thick white webs in corners. How many creatures peeped about in the holes and dark places? Mama wasn’t a living creature anymore. Things would crawl out of the cupboards if she opened them, so Lianna just stared.