All That Is Red (8 page)

“It wasn’t just me ...”

“Oh, yes. We know about the boy. We were able to talk to him for a little while yesterday and thank him.

He has his heart in the right place.” Aurelee smiled, brushing away a strand of gray hair from her left face.

“Yes, he does,” I agreed.

“If there’s anything we could do for you to properly thank you, don’t hesitate to ask.”

“You’re very kind,” I said. “There is one thing I would like to ask of you, though.”

“Anything,” she breathed.

“Can I see Lilith on occasion? I don’t want to inconvenience you.”

“Oh, that wouldn’t be a disturbance at all. Besides, I’m sure Lilith would love that,” she said.

A brief moment of silence followed, but a question burned to be asked and I didn’t know how. Finally, I spoke, “How ... When will you tell Lilith of her parents?”

Aurelee understood what I had meant. “Keldon and I want to wait until the war is over,” she said, her voice suddenly weary with fatigue. “She deserves to know, but not now. Not
in these times.”

I understood her completely. About that time, the door creaked open.

“Grandmama, we’re home!” Lilith bounced into the room.

“So, I see.” Aurelee’s face transformed into one of happiness. Her eyes crinkled in delight and her voice was tired no more.

It was clear to see that Lilith was her whole life and joy. Lilith seemed to have that effect on most people. She enchanted them all and put them under her spell.

“You kept your promise!” Her smile transcended her faces and seeped through into her voice.

“Yes, I did.” For her, I plastered a smile on my face, but my voice still sounded harsh and apathetic.

There was a shout outside and my head snapped up. I heard the sound of yelling and a commotion coming from the other side of the commander’s quarters. I hastily excused myself and rushed
toward it, with everyone else who was running toward the uproar, instead of away from it.

Shoulders hit mine, as some of the crowd ran away from whatever sight they had seen. They pushed their way past me in a great hurry, which made me even more curious as to what I’d
find.

A mob had gathered to see what had occurred, but because of the hoards of people, no one could see anything. Shouts and screams of all different voices mingled and buzzed past my head. Between
legs in the crowd, I caught a glimpse of a bloodied man crawling on the ground.

“What happened?” I asked a random woman next to me. I had to raise my voice to be heard. She looked worried and I hoped that man wasn’t her husband, brother, or child.

“I don’t know,” she yelled over the clamor of voices. “All I know was that a group went out hunting a few hours ago.”

I pushed my way to the front of the mob. I saw around half a dozen men, both Trigon and human, being lifted up into the encampment. They were all badly injured, blood dripping from them and
staining the wooden floor. Some of their limbs were dragging at odd angles, but each looked back, helping the one behind him in whatever way he could.

Then, a scream pierced the air, it was coming from a woman who General Gerrard had to fend off. “Leander!” she cried out. “My boy, Leander! Where is he?” Her arms reached
past the general, clawing the air frantically for her son.

She was only one of many, but the crowd knew well how she felt. Everyone there was hoping that his or her loved one was safe, that he wasn’t one of the throngs left dead below.

The commander was there, barking out orders, and I somehow found myself volunteering to help one of the injured men. She pointed out one of the men, and directed me to carry him back to my room.
The Trigon she motioned me to get stared at me for a while, as if he wanted to say something, but only a groan escaped him. He looked familiar, but with all the blood covering his face, I
couldn’t recognize him.

As I put one of his arms around my shoulders and prepared to haul him over to my room, I felt his weight become lighter. Looking over to the other side of his body, I saw that the boy had taken
the man’s other arm onto his shoulder and was helping me lift him.

When we got to my room, we laid the bloody man on the bed and proceeded to examine his wounds. I was no expert in these matters, but his injuries looked ghastly. The man’s body lay at a
strange angle, his leg bending underneath him.

“I’ll go get something to clean him off with,” the boy said.

More than ever, I was grateful for his help. The blood on the man’s body stained the sheets a deeper Red. It looked as if he slept on a crimson petal. Though I could only begin to imagine
the pain he suffered, his face remained blank and collected. If I didn’t know any better, I would have called his face peaceful.

When the boy returned, he had a basin of water, a sponge, a towel, and bandages. Then, we began cleaning the man’s wounds. They were countless and of different sizes and depths. For a
time, the man gritted his teeth and tensed up each time the sponge or towel touched his skin, but after a while of this, he lost consciousness.

The crusted blood washed off, coloring the water a rusty Red. As we cleaned his wounds, the Red washed over him, seeming to rejuvenate him before our very eyes. Layer after layer of dried blood
and dirt were sponged away, until, finally, we uncovered the man’s youth. He was no man at all. He was a boy around the age of the boy and me. Further still, he was no stranger. It was
Nalin.

I was astounded by the discovery, but my hand never faltered. Soak the towel with water. Clean a gash. Wash the blood off the towel in the basin. It was an unconscious ritual and I didn’t
have to think about it.

“I’ve got to go and help with the other injured,” the boy said. “You’ll be okay?”

“I will,” I said. How could I have said anything other than that? I knew the boy worried for me, because his heart was in the right place, but he had other people who depended on him
even more than I did.

I continued washing and dressing Nalin’s cuts and slashes until he finally came to. I didn’t notice exactly when he regained consciousness, but soon he was sitting up.

“I’m sorry about your bed,” he said, and even at a time like this, he chuckled in his special way.

I couldn’t respond to that, so I focused on wrapping the deep cut on his forearm. It had to be tight enough to stem the bleeding.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

I lost it at those words. I didn’t mean to snap, but his words were the final bricks I could take. “What’s wrong?” I thundered. “Here you are, with more than twenty
gashes and countless broken bones and you ask me what’s wrong?”

“I didn’t know you cared so much,” he said.

I balked. “Of course, I care.” I finished bandaging his wounds in silence. Nalin didn’t utter a sound, although I knew he must have been in great pain.

“So, what happened out there?” I asked, after I had calmed my temper.

“What do you know about it?”

“All I know is that your group was out hunting and this isn’t a normal hunting incident,” I replied, gesturing toward his numerous injuries.

“We were finishing the day’s hunt,” he said, reaffirming what I had heard earlier. “We were only about thirty minutes away from the encampment when we were
attacked.”

“Attacked? By the unfeelings?”

“Yes, by the White,” he said. “Only some of us managed to escape.”

“And the others?”

“They were all either killed or captured.”

“What will the unfeelings do to the captured men?”

“Kill them if they’re merciful,” he said with a blank face.

“And if they’re not?”

“They’ll make them wish they were dead.”

I was mute at his words. They were harsh, but I knew that they were true.

The boy brought in Nalin’s meal and asked if I could help in distributing food to the rest of the injured. I looked to Nalin for a sense of permission to leave his side, but he merely
laughed and waved me on my way.

“Are you sure you don’t need anything else?”

“Only a pencil and some paper,” he responded.

I crossed swiftly to the desk and found precisely what he wanted. At the boy’s questioning look, Nalin explained and what he said brought a long lasting smile to the boy’s face.

“I like to draw.”

Helping him carry the food, I made the meal rounds with the boy. We went to each room and visited every injured man. They were all being tended by weeping family members, mothers, daughters, or
sisters, who were all thankful that their boy was one of the few who survived. However, every one of them also felt guilty with the knowledge that there were those who hadn’t been so
lucky.

The boy talked softly and greeted everyone we met by name. The people in turn talked to him. They confided in him and told him their fears. The boundaries holding Trigons and humans apart
didn’t seem to apply to him, as I saw the boy connect with both species in a way I knew I never could. He felt the same emotions they did and it was clear that he really cared and did his
best to help.

We finished our rounds and went back to my room again. The boy left on another errand for one of the Trigon families. Nalin was sleeping, as tranquilly as possible for a recent near death
experience. I didn’t want to disturb him, so I found myself outside again.

Deciding that I had an answer to the commander’s question already, I made my way to her rooms for the second time that day. The door opened after only one knock and it seemed as if the
commander were expecting me.

“... and move all the injured into the rooms we prepared,” the commander was saying to a young human girl. “Do sit down,” she offered, as the girl left the room.
Motioning to a seat at the same table I had sat at earlier, the commander herself took a seat at the head. “I assume you have a verdict you want to give?”

“Yes, I do.”

“Well, then go ahead,” the commander insisted. “Talk.”

“I will be honored to lead the Red cause.”

“I knew you would step up to lead us. You can provide our side with a strength that even the Pure One doesn’t have. You can band two races together under one common goal. Faith in
the prophecy can bring unity, and only you can do it.”

“Commander?” She looked up. “You’re wrong about one thing.”

“And what is that?”

“I won’t be doing this alone.”

The commander visibly leaned forward and uttered one simple word. “Who?”

“The boy.”

He’s only one of the crowd, a camouflaged face amidst many. What makes him qualified to lead with you?” she scoffed. The commander stood up and walked around the table to where I
sat.

“The people will accept him. He’s one of them and they know it,” I argued to blocked ears. “What makes me qualified?” I added when it was obvious she was not
convinced.

“You’re of the prophecy.”

“And that makes me worthy to band together two races and lead them to what will be certain death for many of them?” I asked her. “And what if I’m not the one the prophecy
was talking about, or what if the prophecy was wrong?”

“Then it wouldn’t matter. As long as the people believe you’re the one the prophecy talks about, they’ll believe in you.”

“I want the boy to be the face of the cause.”

“But-”

“I’m not turning down the offer to lead the Red. I’ll just be behind the scenes. The boy will talk to the people on my behalf and protect my identity.”

The commander, for once, was silent. She seemed to ponder my proposition. When she spoke next, her words were softer.

“Are you sure he can be the face of the cause?”

“Yes, I’m sure.”

C
HAPTER
8

That night, I returned to an empty room. The bed had been remade with fresh sheets and a different quilt, but I couldn’t shake the image of the blood splattered bed. Not
able to rest there, I took the sheets and quilt off the mattress and made a temporary bed on the floor.

As I lay down, I gazed up at the waning moon, which again seemed trapped in the cutout in the ceiling. It seemed to be locked in place, but I was comforted by the fact that the dark night was
beginning to trickle into that space and the moon need not be lonely anymore.

I caught myself thinking of what the commander had asked of me this morning. Could I really lead a rebellion? I didn’t know the first thing about them and, come to think of it, I
didn’t know the people well either.

The commander and I had come to a consensus that the boy would lead on my behalf. I would make the decisions, but he would be the one to stand in front of the people. It would be dangerous for
me to lead directly, and I trusted that the people would accept him in a way they couldn’t accept me. After all, he was one of them.

The morning came quickly and with it came the doubt over whether the boy would even agree to leading the cause on my behalf. I was sure I had made the right choice, but I didn’t know if he
would agree with me.

I found myself knocking on General Gerrard’s door long before I realized my feet were moving. A Trigon boy, who reminded me of Nalin, opened the door and announced my arrival to the
general. I couldn’t help but give him a quick smile, but his grave face took no notice of it.

He seemed so serious for a boy his age, but then I remembered the world in which he was growing up. Every day could be his last and he went to sleep each night trying not to regret the life he
had lived. Not only did he have to be ready for his life to end at any moment, he had to feel ready for it to end. He was a boy of neither the day before nor the day after. He had to be a boy of
the present.

I came upon the general, who was sitting at his desk with a freshly sharpened quill. His hand flying across the page, he wrote furiously. He didn’t even notice me come in, so he was very
startled when I spoke.

“Good morning, General.” I tried my best to sound as though I were in good spirits.

“Oh, good morning and please do call me Gerrard. I’ve never gotten used to the title of general. I think it sounds a bit stuffy, don’t you agree?” He stood up from behind
his desk and gestured for me to take the seat.

“Don’t let me keep you from your work,” I said.