Monarch of Lightning by Unknown

Author:Unknown
Language: eng
Format: epub

Chapter Nineteen

Tremors shook the traveler. He lay near the fire, cheeks burned white. Frost on his eyebrows, hair and beard made him seem ancient. A woman spooned hot mash between the discolored lips. Others took stones heated at the edge of the fire, wrapped them in cloth and tucked them under the heap of blankets covering the man.

Across the flames Lnez huddled in a trance, echoing the violent shivers. Oktria fastened the mystic’s mended cape at his throat so the shaking would not slide it from his shoulders.

“He’ll recover,” Oktria said softly. “You can let go.” It seemed correct to whisper when saying something she did not believe. Lorcha was unforgiving of mistakes. She had witnessed comrades dying from great gushing wounds and from trickling ones. She had seen them fade from thirst and starvation, watched them give in to the cold after being rescued and placed near a warm fire. She expected the man to die and hoped Lnez would not be pulled from life with him.

The man had trudged a slippery mountain path to bring food to his friends. Good should be rewarded, not punished, by the elements. The old god Cyran-ozel should bestow riches on those who risked themselves for the benefit of others. They should be given health and easy paths.

Let the evil and the selfish meet frozen death, and soon.

Oktria felt a chill. If the selfish were struck down, who among them would be left standing? Her hand went to the pouch in her tunic. She knew what position she would be in. Horizontal.

She could not explain why she hoarded the small bundle. Despite her hunger, she had eaten nothing from it. Perhaps it was that as long as the cache remained hidden, there was hope.

Uz brought a steaming mug. “Maybe you can get Lnez to drink this. It be only water. Not my favorite, but we’ve plenty of it and that be in its favor. There be extra meat, if you don’t mind it came to us on its own hooves. The beast be dead before it got here and just didn’t have the sense to know it. And if the smell of baking bread drifts by your deprived nose, it be no dream. Today we feast.”

Oktria pulled the horded pouch from her tunic and opened it. She took a piece of dried fruit and dropped it into the mug. “This will add sweetness and a soft treat to look forward to.”

Uz swallowed tightly and rubbed a hand across his mouth. For days the camp had survived on rationed clobben meat and a mash made from grain and melted snow.

Oktria took the mug from Uz and put the pouch in his hand. “A feast needs fruit.”

Uz held the pouch as if it contained gold. A clever reply seemed balanced on his tongue, but he clamped his lips together before it fell out.

* * *

A cluster of entranced youngsters gathered around an older child who read from a tattered book. Flame from a thick candle illuminated the reader’s expressive face.

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