Ice-Bound Promise [Wattys 2023 Shortlister]

8

8

With surprising gentleness, Nassrid unshackled Únik, allowing the manacles to fall to the floor. The metallic clanking reverberated around the mausoleum room atop the pyramid and then silence fell once more. Tears rolled down Únik's face as she fought to control her anger at the memories Nassrid had dragged from the past.

"That was cruel and unfair." Another surprise, as Hatyara pushed Nassrid aside. She raised a hand to Únik's face, wiping away the tears and seemed to feel genuine compassion.

"I only wanted her to understand what she did." The boy, Swift Arrow, Nassrid, stepped back. Even at eighteen summers, he seemed so young. "Without this lady's actions, none of this would have been possible."

He spread his arms wide, as though showing pride in some great enterprise, instead of a rag-tag band of children, huddling away from the world in a Patrons abandoned line of tombs. Nassrid appeared confused. It seemed clear he intended to praise Únik with his recollection of those horrific days. Únik did not feel that she deserved praise.

Turning away, she moved to the pile of furs upon the floor, separating her own clothing from the strips she had tied around Hatyara, and began to dress. She didn't feel cold, though she did feel uncontrollable shivers ripple through her, but the simple act of putting on her furs made her feel less exposed. Less hunted.

"And what is 'this' that I inspired?" Shrugging into her thick, snow bear pelt coat, she didn't look at Nassrid, nor Hatyara. Barsa had stood up, nuzzling his nose into her hand. "A gathering of children accosting unwary travellers? A band of thieves and highway robbers? Cold and destitute? There's nothing here that I want to have inspired."

"You showed me that injustice can be fought!" The boy's voice almost sounded as though he pleaded with her. "Some of these children were beaten by their parents, just like your daughter. I swore I would never sit back and let what happened to you and Thesik ever happen to anyone again. I saved lives because of you. Gave them a home and warmth and comfort."

"And your thievery?" Standing beside Únik once more, Hatyara laid a hand on Únik's arm, fingers stroking the fur of the coat. "That does not sound like justice to me. In my country, you would be hunted down and flogged."

A young boy, no more than nine summers old, entered the room carrying a crude spear. Tugging upon Nassrid's arm, the boy stretched up and whispered into Swift Arrow's ear, his eyes watching the two women, before scampering away, back out of the doorway.

"We steal to survive and take no more than we need. We never hurt anyone that doesn't hurt us." Stepping towards the doorway, Nassrid swept his hand, urging Únik and Hatyara to join him. "Please. My companions are settling down to eat."

Lifting her sacks of supplies and the whale hook, sat beneath, Únik could only manage to shuffle towards the doorway. With the aches and pains of her body and the ache in her heart, she could find little to motivate her. She moved in silence, allowing Hatyara and Nassrid to pass through the doorway first. Barsa followed her, never further than inches from her heels.

Outside, she saw what appeared to be a series of cloth walls set up around the edges of the large space before the mausoleum. She assumed the walls were there to hide the light of the large fire, set in the middle of the area, though she doubted it would help much. She felt almost certain the glow of the flames would be like a beacon in the long, almost-night days here at the border between Uriok and Hagragng.

She counted a couple over a dozen children sat around the fire. A spit above the flames held a skinned, small pig that one child turned as another basted it. The children sat upon carved logs and cushions and, as she looked behind her, she saw several tents and lean-to's beside the structure of the mausoleum. It appeared that this place, atop a structure dedicated to the dead, had become home to these waifs and strays. A little village all of their own.