In Thy Name

Chapter 15 - Into darkness

Sareb awoke to a pounding headache, which was joined a moment later by a dull ache in his chest, as he remembered the events of the night before. Teshem. Gone. The thought hurt so much it was like a physical pain. He curled up against it, and before he knew it he was weeping, sobs wracking his body, his eyes and nose streaming.

Stop, one part of him said. Don't let them see you like this. But another part, an overwhelming part, didn't care, didn't know anything but grief that seemed as wide as the sky and as deep as the rock.

When Sareb's sobs finally faded, Frostarrow spoke beside him.

"Mage," he said softly. "What has happened?"

Go away, he thought, but he still could not speak. By the time that he could, something had occurred to him.

"Centarchos," he began, and stopped, not liking how his voice was quavering. When he felt more certain of his voice he went on. "What happens to a beacon rock if someone dies? Does it stop working?"

Frostarrow caught his breath. "I don't think so," he finally said. "I've heard that it goes cold."

"Goes—cold?" the mage repeated in a shaky voice. "What if it's not cold, but just—not working?"

"I think that means that the link has been broken."

"H-how does that happen?" The mage, huddled in his cape-wrap, shivered as though cold, and Kuya felt the waves of barely suppressed distress going through him.

"I think it's because the bond between the two people was broken," Kuya said as gently as he could.

The mage gave a stifled moan and curled up even tighter, pain radiating off him in intense waves. Kuya longed to put a comforting hand on his shoulder, but he knew the mage would take it wrong. He didn't know what he could say or do, without tipping the mage into anger. So he just crouched there by his side. If the mage needed anything more, he would be there.

Selengged watched them from beside the remains of the campfire, also not speaking. At last she walked over to her brother and laid her hand on his shoulder. "We should get going."

Kuya nodded, but didn't get up. The mage lay still, as though asleep. Kuya looked up at his sister, raised his eyebrows and gestured at the mage.

Selengged shrugged.

Kuya looked down again, at the thin form tightly curled in the red capewrap. All his life, people had left him alone or driven him out to fend for himself.

"I will wait with him," Kuya said. "It will be harder, but—"

"Don't bother," the mage said in a thick voice. "I'll come with you."

He did it more to escape Frostarrow's pity than anything else. The thought of Frostarrow sitting there over him interminably was suffocating. He would get up. He would go with them to Dalaïda.

And then?

He couldn't think beyond that. A life without Teshem was like a world without sunrise. What did one do when it was night forever, endlessly dark?

He thought of the flowers in his pack. They would banish the night, banish everything.

But Frostarrow was waiting for him.

He dragged himself to his feet. In his night, he would walk, blindly.

***

Even when they took to the air, Sareb's personal darkness did not lift. Flying normally made him feel free and easy, but this time he felt weighed down, as though he hadn't left the earth behind. As they flew over the mountains that bordered the desert, with the golden sands stretching away to the right, and ranks and ranks of mountains, dark with pines, to their left, Sareb regarded them dully. The ache of leaving the desert hardly registered in his much deeper grief.