Cara's Twelve (15 page)

“You're sure you're okay?” Reyn asked again.

Smiling past the uneasy feeling in the pit of her stomach, Cara answered, “I will be fine once I know that you and Maeve are safe.”

He wrapped his arms around her and kissed her forehead. “Thank you for everything.”

“Go,” she said, blinking back tears, pushing him towards the back of the hut where Herron had built a hidden exit. “Be safe.”

As Reyn disappeared into the darkness, Cara began to tremble again. She had to give Reyn enough time to get away before she set fire to the corpse, but the thought of being alone with the dead body made her uncomfortable.

Cara glanced around the small room which barely accommodated the bed and table. She thought about sitting on the floor and closing her eyes, but what if she fell asleep and forgot to set the fire? No, she had to stay awake.

Pacing the floor, her mind drifted back to the strange hallucination. That's what it had to have been. There was no other explanation for what she had seen. Why had she trusted the old woman when she said the herbs weren't dangerous? She should never have taken a sip of the wine. Even now her eyes were playing tricks on her, and she had to close them to block out the shadowy forms that moved menacingly around the room.

When she was certain enough time had passed, she picked up a candle from the bronze candelabrum on the table and walked to the bed. Through the thin gauze that covered the body, Cara could make out some of the man's features. She didn't know where Herron had acquired the body, but from what she could tell, the man had died recently and wasn't much older than herself. He was tall and lanky like Reyn, but his hair was a darker shade of brown. Not that the small detail would matter once the corpse was burned.

Taking the candle, she knelt near the end of the bed and held the flame to the mattress. Slowly the fire caught, catching the blankets, and sheet that covered the body. Within minutes the fire had spread, engulfing the body in a blanket of flames. Unable to tear her gaze from the smoldering corpse, Cara gasped as the body seemed to twitch and come to life.

She was certain that the hand twitched, and as she looked at the melting flesh, the face distorted into the image of her father.

She blinked, suddenly terror stricken, and shook her head sharply, but the image wouldn't go away.

His eyes opened and looked straight at her.

Cara screamed and flung herself backwards, knocking over the table, scattering the candles across the wooden floor.  She watched in horror as the flames crawled up the walls. She knew she needed to get out, but she couldn't move, couldn't turn away from the burning corpse.

The smoke billowed around her, in thick waves that burned her eyes and lungs. She coughed and choked, and fell to her hands and knees. She had to get to the door, but the smoke was too heavy and she found herself turned around, not knowing where she was.

A crack sounded above her and she was sure the roof was caving in on her.  She wheezed and tried to breathe, but no air would enter her lungs. She could feel herself slipping into the darkness, and no matter how hard she tried to push forward, she couldn't fight through it. As her vision swam, Cara's last thought was of Reyn and Maeve. They would be safe. It was a sacrifice she had been willing to take. And despite the fear of taking her last breath, she knew she had made the right decision.

The next thing she knew she was being carried from the burning building. She gasped and coughed as fresh air entered her lungs.  For a full minute she couldn't catch her breath, and her lungs burned like they were on fire.

“Get her some water,” someone yelled.

“Cara, look at me,” Finn demanded.

She hadn't realized it was him that held her. She blinked and tried to focus but her eyes burned and she had to close them again. Another spasm in her chest made her cough so hard that she thought her ribs might actually break. She tried to speak, but her voice came out in a rasping whisper, and she began to panic.

“It's okay, don't try to speak. Just breathe and stay calm. I've got you.”

Finn rubbed her back, and when someone handed him a cup of water he lifted it to her lips and helped her take small sips.

A crowd had gathered around her, and she heard people wailing in grief as the charred body was pulled from the remnants of the wooden hut. Even Edmund looked distressed as he glanced at what he would assume was the remains of Reyn's body.

Cara grimaced in pain. Her breathing labored, and she blinked to focus her eyes on Finn's concerned face. They had done it. Reyn and Maeve were free.

Their time in Crowthorne was extended an extra week due to the funeral arrangements. Of the Twelve, only Finn, Helfrich and Tahdaon knew that Reyn was still alive, and his death had cast a dark shadow over the other men. Even Edmund and his two henchmen had contained their criticism and snide remarks as they set out towards the province of Loewik.

They were told that Maeve would stay under Herron's protection. Cara had expressed from the beginning that Maeve would be best protected in Crowthorne, so it raised no suspicion that she wouldn't travel any further with them.

Both Herron and Callion had recommended that Cara stay an additional week to allow her time to heal, but she insisted they continue the tour, since they were already behind schedule. A few days into their journey Cara wished she had listened to their advice. Her injuries from the fire were more serious then she had initially thought, and by the time they reached the Viceroy of Loewik's home, she was fevered and coughing up bloody mucus.

Batch stood in the doorway of Cara's bedroom, in his father's house, holding a tray, and stuttered, “C-can I come in?

Cara managed a smile and nodded for him to enter. “I'm sorry Batch,” she wheezed, trying to take a deep breath as another hacking cough wracked her body. “I hope you're not terribly disappointed that I haven't been able to spend time with your family.”

“On the contrary, I think for your own sake it's been a blessing that you've been confined to your room.” His face turned red as he realized what he had said. “I didn't mean…”

“It's okay,” Cara laughed. “I understand what you meant.”

Finn and Helfrich had both been quite vocal in their disgust with the Viceroy of Loewik. In their opinion, Batch's father was a cruel man who drank too much and publicly harassed his young wife and oldest son. Batch's mother had died many years before from an unexplained illness, and the young woman the Viceroy was now married to was only a few years older than Cara.

“I brought you something that I think may help with your cough,” Batch said, placing the tray on the table beside her bed. “Ever since I was little, I've suffered from chest infections. Some quite serious, but this has always helped to clear the mucus and reduce the fever.”

Cara looked at the mishmash of items and shook her head. The king's physician had continued on with them since Maeve was no longer in need of his services, but so far his ointments and tonics had done little to ease her discomfort. She was willing to try anything at this point.

“Is that cayenne?” Cara asked, as he began to mix a large spoonful into a cup of water.

Batch nodded. “Mixed with crushed garlic and oil of oregano. You should take it three times a day.”

Cara made a face of disgust as he handed her the cup.

“You need to drink it quickly. Once the cayenne is mixed with water, it becomes spicier the longer it sits.”

Cara took a deep breath and drank the contents quickly. She gagged on the granular mixture, and Batch replaced the empty cup with another filled with a thick orange substance.

“It's only carrot juice,” he said in response to the skeptical look she gave him.

She drank the juice and clucked her tongue at the pungent flavor.

“With a little bit of ginger,” he added, and smiled.

He took the cup and placed it back on the tray. “I'll come back around suppertime with your next dose.”

“Why don't you stay with me for a bit,” she said, motioning for him to sit at the end of the bed. “We haven't had much time alone, and I'd like to know more about you.”

He looked down at the tray, and with a sheepish expression, set it back on the table before sitting awkwardly at her feet. He glanced at the door nervously and then stared down at his hands.

Batch had always been shy in her presence, and even more so when the other men were around. His lack of confidence was evident, and the more she learned of his family, the more she understood where his insecurities came from.

Cara studied him as he sat across from her. His features were plain. Short cropped mousy hair. Ashen skin. Grey eyes that slanted upwards giving him a pinched look. There was nothing exceptional about his appearance or his mannerisms, and Cara found herself pitying him.

“Why don't you tell me about Loewik? What was it like growing up here?”

Batch shrugged. “Not much different than Crowthorne, I suspect. When the waters retreated we lost our main trading harbor, but the trawlers found a way to fish despite the shallow waters, so even though our resources are low, the people of Loewik don't starve.” He looked at her and smiled before adding, “That's as long as you don't mind salted mackerel for breakfast, lunch, and supper.”

Cara grinned. In the week she had been there she had consumed baked eel, fried cod, poached salmon, and just this afternoon she had been served mackerel stew. Now she knew why. She could imagine that it would become rather monotonous eating the same thing all the time, but the people of Loewik were fortunate to have a source of protein so readily available. The trawlers hadn't been as successful along the Crowthorne coast.

They sat in awkward silence for a long moment before Batch gained the courage to ask, “Was it true? What you said at the last moon ceremony, about the waters coming back? Did you really hear Annul's voice?”

Cara stared at him. She didn't know how to respond. What could she say when she didn't know the answer herself?

“Don't get me wrong,” Batch continued, as he wrung his hands nervously together. “I don't mean to sound doubtful. It's just that I've never really had much faith. Not after my mother died. My father always believed that religion was just another way for the Queen and court to control the provinces. Sorry, I probably shouldn't have said that…”

She frowned at the fear and reservation in his face.

“You're free to speak your mind, Batch. I won't judge you.”

He nodded, but she could tell he wasn't sure if he believed her. A muscle in his jaw twitched and he glanced at the door again.

“I just thought that if it's true, if she really exists…” His voice trailed off, and he waited silently for her to respond. His eyes were bright with anticipation, with a need to hear her confirm that Annul had spoken to her.

After a long moment, Cara finally answered, “I wish I could tell you what you want to hear, but I really don't know what to believe myself.”

“But what you said..,” Batch insisted, and Cara saw the hope fade from his eyes.

“What would it change if it were true?” she asked, changing the direction of the conversation. She didn't know if her words had been Annul's or merely a symptom of the drugs she had been given. She didn't want to quell the hope that Batch so obviously needed, but she also didn't want to lie to him. “How would your life be different?

“I wouldn't feel so alone,” he whispered almost inaudibly, but Cara heard him, especially the desperation in his words.

How had she been so blind to this man's suffering?

Despite the pain in her chest, Cara managed to sit up, and placed her hand over his. “You're not alone. We're your family now. I'm sorry if I haven't made you feel that way, but it's the truth. I want you to feel like you have place among us.”

Batch shrugged, and Cara could see in his expression that he doubted her words.

“You should be sleeping,” Finn scolded, as he entered the room.

Batch jumped from the bed as if he had been caught doing something improper just by sitting with her.

“So-sorry,” he stammered, and stumbled as he collected the tray from her nightstand.

“Batch,” Cara called out, as he scurried from the room.

A fit of coughing resumed, and Finn helped her lie back down.

“You didn't have to be so harsh with him,” Cara said, when she was able to catch her breath.

“I told the men not to disturb you. You're not going to get better if you don't sleep.”

“Finn,” she said, exasperated by his overbearing manner. “You can't keep the others from me. It will only cause resentment.”

He positioned himself on the bed so that her back was leaning against his chest. “I just want you feeling better.”

He wrapped his arms around her and nuzzled her neck.

Cara let out a tired sigh. “Just try to be gentler with Batch. He's not like the others, and I'm worried that some of the men might be mistreating him.”

“Did he tell you that?”

“No. It's just something I feel. Maybe I'm wrong.”

He kissed the top of her head, and Cara relaxed into his embrace.  

“I'll keep my eyes on him,” Finn said, stroking her forehead. “Now, close your eyes and rest, before I decide to post a guard outside your door to make sure you aren't disturbed.”

“You wouldn't,” she exclaimed, but she knew he would.

“Sleep,” he commanded.

She opened her mouth to protest, and then clamped it shut. There was no use arguing with him. Sitting semi-upright with her head against his chest was the only way she had been able to sleep peacefully since the coughing had begun. She closed her eyes, not because he had demanded it, but because her time with Batch had truly worn her out.

She needed to have a discussion with Finn about the control he had been assuming with her and the other men. She had allowed it to go on too long. But at the moment, all she wanted to do was sleep.

* * *

Three times a day Batch never failed to bring her his herbal remedy. Whether it was his foul tasting concoction, or merely time and rest, within a week her fever had broken and she was no longer coughing up mucus. Frustrated by being bedridden for so long, Cara ignored Finn's advice, bathed, dressed and made her way to the where the men had gathered in the great hall.

At first they didn't notice her presence, and she took the opportunity to observe their behavior and listen to the argument that ensued. There was still so much she didn't know about them. She had spent too much time with Finn, while ignoring the needs of the others, and it was time that she make amends.

The mood in the room was acrid, and none of the men appeared to be pleased with the topic being discussed. Helfrich spoke quietly to Finn, and Cara saw Finn's frown deepen. Efy stood with Cuch, their backs to the stone wall, as Edmund paced the room as if ready to strike out at any moment. Arwel, Theo, and Wesley sat at the table, staring into their cups, while Hauk and Tahdaon watched the proceedings from separate corners of the room. Batch stood in front of the stone hearth visibly shaking. Something had happened that Cara wasn't aware of, and whatever it was had obviously upset all of the men.

“I ca-can't do anything,” Batch stuttered, wiping the sweat from his brow on the sleeve of his tunic.

He looked like he would be violently ill as Edmund raked him with a disdainful glare.

“If he refuses to follow the customs and pay tribute to Annul then we should leave now. Why waste another moment in this backwater cesspool? Send Batch to the palace and let the council deal with him and his lowlife father.”

“It's not Batch's fault the Viceroy refuses to hold a moon festival,” Helfrich said calmly.

“It doesn't matter whose fault it is,” Edmund ranted. “It's treason. How do we know that he isn't plotting an assassination as we speak?”

Batch gawked. “I would ne-never hurt her.”

Cara watched in horror as Edmund pulled his dagger on Batch. In an instant, Finn and Tahdaon had their weapons drawn and pointed at Edmund, causing Theo and Arwel to retaliate as well.

“Enough,” she yelled, walking through the men and their weapons to stand beside Batch, and narrowing her gaze on Edmund. “Put your weapons down. I will not have you fighting amongst each other.”

Edmund slowly sheathed his dagger, never dropping his gaze from hers. He cocked his head and sneered, “If he refuses to complete his vows, he isn't one of us.”

Cara looked at Batch for answers, but he appeared terror-stricken as he looked between her and Edmund.

“Batch,” she spoke softly, as if speaking to a frightened child. “Tell me what's happened.”

He looked at Edmund as if expecting him to draw his weapon again.

She let out a frustrated breath and ordered Edmund to take a seat. Grudgingly he did as he was told, and Cara looked at Batch expectantly.

When he didn't speak, she repeated what she had overheard. “Your father refuses to hold a moon festival to honor Annul?”

Batch nodded.

“Even though his actions will be seen as treason?”

Batch looked down at his feet and nodded again.

Cara sighed. She had never dreamed that any of the provinces would refuse to swear allegiance to her, and she didn't know exactly what it would mean for Batch or Loewik if the council found out, but she knew it wouldn't be good. She had no doubt that Batch was innocent in the dealings, and she was furious at Edmund for accusing him otherwise.

Cara had met the Viceroy briefly, and while he was obnoxious and prone to drunkenness, she hadn't thought of him as traitorous.

“Does he deny my right to rule as queen?”

“No,” Batch said with a look of horror. “He's not disloyal to you or to the council. I swear on my life. He's just…”

He looked around the room in panic, and her heart lurched at the misery he tried to conceal.

Placing her hand on his arm, she waited until he looked at her and then sharpened her tone. “Batch help me understand. Why would he risk being judged as a traitor?”

Batch let out a strangled breath and mumbled, “He refuses to spend the coin that a festival would cost. In addition, there are no temples left in Loewik, and he will not allow an officiate from another province to preside over the ceremony. It's pride that stops him. Pride and a stingy fist,” Batch explained, his face turning bright red in embarrassment.  

Cara rubbed her eyes and shook her head. The man would risk war for a few gold coins. Cara looked at Batch, and her stomach knotted in fear for the man. Unshed tears brightened his grey eyes, and he refused to look at her. Instead, he stared down at the floor in humiliation.  

Just days before she had promised him that she was his family. That he had a place among them. How could she send him away, to be reprimanded by the council, because of no fault of his own? There had to be another way.