Souls of Aredyrah 3 - The Taking of the Dawn (31 page)

“
Executions?
”

“Yes. As much as I’d like to spare you the
details, I suppose I’d best tell you, especially since you’ve got a
mind to walk yourself into a pyre.”

“There have been
burnings
?” he
exclaimed. “But who? Why?”

“The accusations started as soon as the
mountain started rumbling. Daghadar was angry, people were heard
saying. Someone had to be the cause of it. The Vestry called an
immediate meeting; inquiries were made; names were taken.”

“The names of who? I mean, how could any
individual be responsible for that?”

“Your name was at the top of the list, Dayn,
but the Vestry knew better than to confront the clans too soon. The
Kiradyns have never been at war, but they’re beginning to make
preparations for it, and their vigilantism may be just enough to
force the clans to take up arms.”

“So after me, who was next on their
list?”

Eileis frowned. “Anyone they’d had problems
with in the past. Suspected sinners, fornicators, inverts…pretty
much anyone they thought was deviant or strange in the head.”

“There couldn’t have been many accused
then.”

“Over a hundred so far.”

“
What?
”

“Course there wasn’t any proof to back up the
claims. The Vestry said there was no need. They sent a ritual of
prayer to Daghadar and figured if they were wrong, the Maker’d tell
them so.”

“So how many were spared?”

“None.”

Dayn sank onto the nearby bench.

“Falyn was right to warn you away from
Kiradyn, Dayn.”

Dayn looked down at Falyn’s letter. In truth,
she hadn’t warned him away at all. She had asked him to meet her at
the Well of Wishes, and though it was a long walk from Kiradyn, and
even more than that from Haskel’s, she obviously wanted to see
him.

Eileis stepped closer. “I meant what I said
earlier, Dayn. No foolish notions about seeing Falyn, you hear?
Lorcan’s not a man to be crossed, and with things as they are with
the Vestry…”

“Of course not,” Dayn said. “No girl’s worth
getting killed over.”
Except maybe this one.
He glanced
toward the door. “I think I’d like to turn in now, Eileis. I’m
really tired. Shall I escort you back to the dance?”

“No need,” she said. “You get some rest.
You’ll need an early start if you’re taking us to the cave.”

Dayn nodded. The earlier he took the
Chieftains to see the drawings, the earlier they would leave for
Kiradyn. With that kind of evidence, they would have little choice
but to go to the Vestry, and then Dayn could slip away to meet
Falyn. But no matter what plans he set, he knew it was a waiting
game. The next several hours would feel like a lifetime, but for
one moment alone with Falyn, he would wait an eternity.

Back to ToC

Chapter 25: Against the
Wall

E
yan danced till his
lungs burned and his legs ached, but he had no intention of
stopping. He let out a hoot—he couldn’t believe his luck! Just
about every girl in the room had joined him on the dance floor
tonight, and just about every boy had watched him on account of it.
It gave him a sense of satisfaction he didn’t understand, but
knowing they watched him was all that mattered. For too long he had
been invisible. Now he held everyone’s attention.

His current dance partner smiled at him, then
she skipped to her right. Eyan watched as she twirled. The girl was
pretty, he thought, with her curls all a-swirl with pink ribbons,
and her fingers so dainty and slender. He could not deny that he
enjoyed looking at her. For that matter, he could not deny he’d
enjoyed looking at all the girls he’d danced with that night. But
as he thought on it now, he realized it wasn’t enough.

He had been watching the boys all evening,
too, observing how they dressed and danced and behaved. One boy in
particular had caught Eyan’s eye: the boy from the Crests that Dayn
had pointed out earlier. The boy seemed well-liked. He was always
surrounded by friends; girls vied for his attention; even the boys
followed him around like lapdogs. He was nicely attired in a
quilted tunic of blue, and appeared to be about Eyan’s age, though
much taller and broader in the shoulders. He was an impressive
figure, Eyan thought. The perfect model of what he himself wanted
to become.

The boy’s name was also handsome: Quillan.
Eyan knew because he had asked one of his dance partners earlier.
He’d focused on the boy ever since, noting his mannerisms, how he
interacted with others, the charm of his smile, the spark of his
personality. Now there was someone to emulate. He was pleased when
Quillan’s eyes had finally turned to his, and though the observance
had been brief, Eyan was thrilled the boy had noticed him at all.
Why, if Quillan was as curious about Eyan as he was about him, they
might actually become friends.

The music ended with the thump of a drum and
a friendly call for break. Eyan thanked his dance partner, who
curtsied, then turned and headed for the nearest refreshment table.
He grabbed up a mug of cider and plopped onto a nearby bench. How
late was it? he wondered. He scanned the crowd, searching for Dayn,
but his cousin was nowhere to be seen. Well, no matter, he thought;
Dayn hated these things, though Eyan couldn’t imagine why. Alicine,
on the other hand, was still making merry with a group of friends
across the way. Eyan smiled. He liked seeing her so happy.

He tipped the mug to his lips and took a
swig, catching sight of Quillan just over the rim. Quillan was
staring back at him, he realized, and it sent exhilaration to his
belly, but it quickly soured when Quillan’s expression turned
hostile.

Eyan shifted his gaze and gulped down the
contents of his mug. Why had Quillan looked at him like that? he
wondered. Perhaps he was annoyed by Eyan’s earlier surveillance of
him. It probably was bad manners to stare at a person like that.
But Eyan couldn’t help it. Until now, what little he’d learned
about boys and girls had been by watching them from the shadows,
and he hadn’t had much opportunity to do even that. It was only on
the rare occasion that company stopped by that he’d had a chance to
spy on anyone. All he knew he’d pretty much pieced together; his
parents had worked hard to keep him in a constant state of
childhood. But he was nineteen now, a man, not a boy. No longer
could he simply watch from the sidelines.

He glanced up to see Quillan heading for the
door. Urgency built in his throat; what if Quillan really
was
angry with him? Eyan could not bear the thought of it.
He rose and set his mug aside, determined to make restitution, then
shouldered through the crowd and worked his way toward the
exit.

Eyan stepped outside and looked right, then
left, catching sight of Quillan’s blue tunic rounding the corner of
the barn. He hustled after him and soon found himself beyond the
security of the light from the party. He thought to call out
Quillan’s name before the boy got too far, but before he could say
a word, Quillan disappeared to the back.

Eyan followed and stepped around the corner,
then stopped and retreated a step or two. Quillan, he realized, was
but a few feet away, relieving his bladder onto the timbers of the
barn.

Eyan pressed his back against the side,
attempting to give the boy some privacy, but in what seemed like an
instant, a fist grabbed hold of his collar and yanked him around
the corner. With a shove, Eyan’s cheekbone was slammed against the
wall, his left arm twisted painfully at his back. A muscular
forearm pressed against his neck.

“You
watchin’
me?” Quillan
demanded.

“No,” Eyan cried. “I—I was just waitin’ for
ye.”

“Waitin’ for me?” The pressure on his neck
increased.

“I—I’m sorry,” Eyan sputtered. “I was waitin’
for ye to finish.”

Quillan shoved his full weight against Eyan’s
body, pinning every limb to the wall. “I know what ye are,” Quillan
hissed.

Eyan struggled to escape, but he was no match
against Quillan. “I don’t know what ye mean.”

“Ye said you were waitin’ for me,” Quillan
said. “Why?”

“I wanted to—,”

“To what?”

“To apologize.”

“For what? Workin’ your spells on me?”

Eyan’s heart flew into a panic. What did
Quillan mean, working his spells? Spell work was forbidden.
Everyone knew that. “I—I don’t know what ye mean,” he
stammered.

Quillan shoved a knee into Eyan’s lower
spine. The pain nearly sent Eyan’s legs out from under him.

“I’ve heard what your kind do,” Quillan said.
“Demons ensorcel people into wanting ‘em, that’s what I hear. I’m
not talkin’ the normal kind of want, mind ye. I’m talkin’ the
forbidden kind, the perverted kind.”

Tears pricked Eyan’s eyes. He blinked them
back.

“You’ve been castin’ your spell on me all
evenin’, haven’t ye,” Quillan said. He pressed his lips to Eyan’s
ear, his warm breath coiling into it. “I’ll show ye what happens to
demons that look my way.”

“Please,” Eyan said. “I won’t look at ye
again. I swear it.”

Eyan closed his eyes, tensing for the
inevitable blow, but suddenly the weight of Quillan’s body
evaporated. Eyan opened his eyes to see the boy being lifted by the
back of his collar, dangling before him by a man nearly twice his
size—Brenainn!

“Now watcha doin’ there, tryin’ to take
advantage of a poor boy who can’t be knowin’ much about this world,
includin’ the likes o’you?” Brenainn said.

Quillan struggled until at last Brenainn set
him on his feet. But the Chieftain kept a firm grip on his
collar.

“I’m not the evil one—he is!” Quillan cried,
pointing a shaky finger at Eyan. “He ensorcelled me. He did!”

“D’ya think I was born yesterdee, ye kit!”
Brenainn said.

“It’s true,” Quillan insisted. “He’s been
givin’ me the evil eye all night. I came outside to do my business,
is all, and the next thing I know he’s ensorcelled me to—to—”

“To wha’? Assault him agin’ the wall? I seem
to recall ‘im beggin’ ye to stop. Ye do know wha’ stop means, don’
ye?”

“I swear. It wasn’t me! It was—”

“Who? Yer mother’s gre’ mare?” Brenainn
yanked Quillan’s face within an inch of his own. “Now I say ye get
yeerself on away now an leave this here lad alone. Cos iffen ye
don’, I’ll be payin’ yer da a visit right quick. Or better yet,
mebe I’ll be payin’ yon lady Olwyn a visit first.”

“You wouldn’t!” Quillan said.

“Aye, I would. Just try me an’ see.” Brenainn
released his hold on Quillan’s collar, shoving him back a step.
“Now off with ye, ye scoundrel, before ye learn wa a real man can
do.” Brenainn grabbed hold of his wide belt buckle and gave it a
tug.

Quillan’s eyes grew three sizes; he spun and
double-stepped around the corner, flinging mulch in his wake.

Brenainn roared with laughter. “Ye wouldin’
know what to do with a man my size, ye kit!” he called after him,
then laughed even louder than before.

Eyan continued to cower, speechless, against
the wall. He had no clue what had just transpired, and was at a
complete loss as to how to respond.

Brenainn turned to him. He narrowed his eyes
and cocked his head. “So ye ensorcelled the lad, eh?”

“No!” Eyan blurted. “I—I don’t know what he
means.”

“Don’ ye?”

“No, I swear, I just wanted to tell him I was
sorry, that’s all.”

“Fer wha?”

Eyan swallowed; his throat had become
alarmingly dry. “For starin’ at him.”

“
Starin’
at him? Are ye not knowin’
anythin’ at all? Ye don’ go starin’ at a lad like that and not be
expectin’ to get somethin’ in return fer it.”

“What?”

“Ye do know what I’m referin’ to, don’
ye?”

“No. I mean…aye. He didn’t like how I was
lookin’ at him.”

“So ye
were
givin’ him the evil
eye.”

“What? No!”

Brenainn stroked his beard, deep in thought
for a moment. He raised an inquisitive brow. “What do ye know about
lads an’ lads, boy?”

“What d’ye mean?”

“I mean boys that be liken’ boys.”

“I don’t…understand.”

“Gor, ye
were
born yesterdee.”
Brenainn shook his head. “I think ye need some schoolin’. But I
don’ think I’m the one to be doin’ it. Mebe ye should be askin’
your da to explain it.”

Eyan ground his teeth. “My father doesn’t
tell me anythin’. He said I’m not allowed to marry, so there’s no
sense in me knowin’ about things like that.”

Brenainn guffawed. “Well, the las’ time I
looked, boys weren’t marryin’ boys, so I don’ see wha’ marriage has
to do wi’ it. But if your da don’ see fit to tell ye, then it ain’t
my place to be a doin’ it.”

“Then I guess I’ll never know anythin’
then.”

“Listen, boy. I’ll be tellin’ ye this: Ye
watch how ye look at boys like Quillan. He is wha’ he is, an’ I’ll
not deny him his right to it. But assaultin’ ye to cover his own
fears, well, it’s wrong it is. But if ye were to be caught doin’
the deed by the Kiradyns, even if ye weren’t a wantin’ to, things
could go bad for ye—a lot worse’n a little pain in the backside,
I’ll be tellin’ ye that.”

“Wha—”

Brenainn leaned toward him. “The Vestry’s
proclaimed it an
abomination
, the damned fools. But bein’ as
it is, ye could be burned at the stake fer it, an’ your partner wi’
ye.” He straightened his back and put a commanding hand on Eyan’s
shoulder. “Talk to your da, lad. He’ll explain it to ye. Just don’
be doin’ anythin’ ye should’n hear? And if ye ain’t sure about it,
well, don’ do it anyway.”

****

Eyan slipped into the house, closing the door
behind him. “Talk to your da about it,” he muttered. “Like
he’d
tell me anythin’.” He walked toward the hearth then
stopped. Dayn, he noticed, was asleep on a pallet near the
fireplace. Eyan looked around the room. It was dim, but the coals
in the hearth illuminated it well enough, and there was a still-lit
candle flickering on the kitchen table. None of the adults were in
their beds, he noticed, nor was Alicine who would probably be out
for hours. Dayn seemed to be the only one home, which suited Eyan
just fine; he was in no mood to see his parents at the moment. They
could stay gone all night for all he cared, and from the sound of
the music in the barn, that was a likely possibility. The dance was
obviously back in full swing.