Healer of Sakkara

Chapter 21 - Faith

Dueling emotions waged war in Galen's breast. The clouds that had drizzled rain over the Pinedark cleared away to reveal an azure sky, and the air he breathed was sweet and fresh. The woods in which he walked were light and colorful—birch with white bark striped with black, and aspen with leaves like gold coins that made a sound like water in the wind. Birds sang, and the sun glinted in a rain-washed sky. It was heavenly, yet Galen felt the pine-gloom had followed him as a heavy darkness in his heart.

He looked to his companions and saw his feeling mirrored on their faces. They were now one fewer in number, and what should have been a time of joyous relief was instead one of sorrow. A thread of guilt wormed its way through his thoughts, and he crushed it angrily.

He had no right to feel guilty; he hadn't asked to be kidnapped and brought to a forest full of monsters, and he hadn't asked to be this 'p'yrha' thing, either. Iksthanis's choices had been his own. If anyone should feel guilty, it was Sev, but Galen had no idea what the tall, pale man was feeling. His face was impassive and devoid of emotion, and like the others, he had not spoken a word since they left the chasm and the Pinedark behind.

Yet Galen knew his lack of expression did not mean he felt nothing; Zenír's face, too, was blank, and it was clear he felt Iksthanis's loss more keenly than anyone. Galen wondered if they had been lovers or merely shared the love of friends, but now was not the time to ask.

They had left the Pinedark in the late morning, and though weary with exertion and sorrow, and weak with the aftermath of fear, Sev and Rea had convinced them to keep going and to put as much distance as possible between themselves and the pines. Galen had thought it impossible, and that he would soon collapse from fatigue, but he kept walking, though his mind went dull and blank. Soon his sense of the world darkened and collapsed, until he saw nothing but the ground at his feet, felt nothing but the pain in his body—a dull, pervasive ache—and heard nothing but a steady, quiet rushing in his ears.

"Galen!"

He startled as Sev stepped in front of him and held his shoulders, forcing him to stop.

"What?" Galen asked, but his lips failed to move.

"I've been calling you. Did you not hear?"

He shook his head, but again was unsure he succeeded.

"Galen?"

Sev's brows pinched with concern, and Galen realized he had failed to make any reply at all.

"Come; this way," Sev said, turning him around and leading him back through the trees. "We've come far enough for today, and found a good place to camp."

Ahead, Galen saw a small, clear alpine lake with shores of smooth stone. The other already rested on a broad, flat ledge beside the water, shedding their gear and unlacing their boots. Joining them, Galen's legs buckled, and he half fell and half sat at Behn's side.

"All right, Gale?" Behn asked. His face was red and sweaty, and he winced as he pulled a boot off a swollen and blistered foot. His ankle was bruised a mottled purple, and it looked as if he'd sprained it at some point. Driven by some reflexive instinct, Galen reached for it, but Sev, who had crouched at his side, held him back.

"I can help," Galen mumbled, managing to speak at last.

"Maybe later," said Sev. "Everyone has blisters, bruises and scrapes. Including you." He brushed some dark curls, crusted with blood, away from a cut on Galen's brow, caused by a stick or a stone somewhere along the way. "You're in no condition to help anyone but yourself. You're dehydrated and near exhaustion, and you're not alone in that."

Raising his voice, he addressed the group at large.

"We have several hours of daylight left. I want everyone to rest. Sleep, take your fill of water, bathe, eat what food we have on hand. At eventide we will make a proper camp, build a fire, cook a meal. Then, in the morning, when we are rested and fed, we will remember our friend."