Tearing The Shroud (4 page)

‘I think I heard something, Commander,’ Coleen said over her shoulder. ‘He might be alive.’ Her voice was hopeful.

‘Excellent. Keep at it. Perhaps he’ll respond again,’ Sari said.

Flowers. Yellow flowers.

Knee-high fields of them as far as he could see. Green stalks gently moving in the breeze. He walked through them, enjoying the peace.

‘Hello?’ a soft voice said. He turned but saw no one. He was calm. The voice meant him no harm.

‘I need you to try again. I know you’re tired.’

The voice;
was it a woman
? The voice was right.
Tired, so tired. It’s peaceful here. A good place to rest.

Just.

Stay.

Forever.
That would be nice.
Rest.

‘Don’t give up; you’re doing well. Come to me. Lift the bar.’

What bar?
He turned and now saw a door, standing alone in the field.
Oh, she’s right, it’s barred. Such a nice voice. I’ll just lift...
’

Coleman crashed to the floor, the weight of the bar more than he could bear. Light like the heavens flooded in. A spirit had come to take him to Paradise. The most beautiful woman he had ever seen reached toward him.

So, this is death...

As the Cloister’s Mistress of Healing, Jolie was first through the door when it opened. She lifted the bar from his chest. He spoke; something about flowers, and she saw his face, clearly, for the first time.
By the Divine, he’s gorgeous.
Get hold of yourself, Jolie. ‘He’s pretty beat up and has multiple wounds that need stitching; several are deep. He’s also suffering from extreme exhaustion.’ She nodded to Sari. ‘I think he’ll make it.’ She turned back to him, and he looked into her eyes, smiled, and passed out. ‘See what I mean?’ She laughed. ‘He’s smiling like he’s posing for a portrait.’

Preparations
Callendel

Justus carefully prepared for his journey. He knew the next few days would be the culmination of his life’s work. He mumbled to himself, ‘More like the culmination of my
life
if this doesn’t go as I hope. I shall cross the Great Divide and claim what is mine.’ At his words, a black parrot flew over and landed on his leather traveling satchel. It looked at him and squawked loudly.

‘Be silent, Pae. I know I don’t have to go through with it.’
Pae
. Justus continued compiling his arcane supplies.
Someday that bird will lip off one too many times. Then it’s Pae pie for dinner
.
Lip off? He has no lips
. He stopped what he was doing to keep from breaking things, and gave in to the mirth that so rarely affected him.

Pae cocked his head to the side, indicating his confusion.

Just when his laughter subsided, the thought of Pae pie started it again. Wiping the tears from his eyes, he tried to contain himself. ‘I really do need to sleep more.’

Pae shook his head and flapped one wing, screeching.

‘What do you mean, I sleep too much? Bah.’ He waved his hand dismissively. ‘Yes, yes. I know, I’ll remember the cotton.’ Perhaps the pie would have to wait; the bird was an excellent assistant. Taking each item off the spotlessly clean shelf, and packing them carefully, he made sure the glass containers were completely isolated, and secured by thick cotton padding.
It wouldn’t do to have them break against one another, now would it?

‘No, no, no,’ he continued aloud. ‘Wouldn’t do at all. It’s not the glass, you know, that is replaceable. If these ingredients mixed improperly, who knows what would come of it? Now, what was I saying? Or was I thinking it?’ He stretched and yawned. ‘That’s the trouble with being an old man. You get tired too easily and your mind wanders.’

Pae fixed him with a beady black eye, and whistled three times, each louder than the last.

‘Fine. I remember now; you don’t have to yell. Here I am, the greatest sorcerer in the world — ’

Pae hacked.

‘No wisecracks from you. You ungrateful, foul fowl,’ he said, throwing a cork stopper at the bird. ‘Where was I?’ He scratched his head. ‘Ah, yes. Here I am, the world’s greatest sorcerer, and a feather duster with a brain the size of a pea is scolding me. A pea, Pae, do you hear me?’ He shook a rag at him.
Pae, you’re the reason I think all this is possible.
‘And that’s the
only
reason,’ he yelled, shaking his finger at the parrot, ‘I don’t get rid of you. Well, maybe not the only reason, but
one
of them. So you’d better remember not to forget it.’ He paused, shaking his head. ‘Egads. Remember not to forget it? I’m so tired, I can’t even talk. Pae, I think it’s time for a nap.’

With that, he hobbled to his cot, threw off his outer cloak, and lay down. He was asleep almost as soon as he pulled the silk blanket up to his bearded chin.

As he slept, he dreamed of being young.

The Fire
Eighty-Six Years in the Past
The Greater Valley

‘Get up! Hurry! Wake up!’ Justus could hear his older brother Jonas yelling, but he couldn’t imagine why he would be making such a racket in the middle of the night. It wasn’t time to bring the cows in for milking. The cows themselves were probably still sleeping. He rolled toward the wall, hoping it was a dream, but his mind woke up before the rest of him did.
Why was he waking the whole house?
Something was making the back of his throat itch. It cut through his sleepy mind like a sharp knife.
Smoke.
Then he heard the other thing Jonas was shouting.

‘Fire. Hurry. Everybody get out of the house.’

He jumped to his feet and dragged on his pants. Still buttoning them, he stumbled into the hall that spanned the length of the third floor. The smoke and intense heat filling the corridor nearly overcame him. Realizing he’d forgotten his shoes, he reached back into his room to retrieve them. When he bent over, he found the air was clearer near the floor, so he sat and put them on then went to his knees. Making his way down the hall, his eyes filled with tears from the smoke and his panic. The house made an eerie creaking as it expanded with the heat. Smoke swirled in a thick blanket inches above him...

As he neared the end of the hall, he found that the heat was coming up the stairs, like a chimney. He sat back, panic-stricken, unable to move.
Sitting there wasn’t the answer; that would end up with him roasted like a chicken.
The thought shook him into action, and he crawled back down the hallway.

Panic rose in him like bile in his throat, and he started crying once more. Shaking his head, he fought to concentrate.
He had to get himself under control.
‘Come on, Justus,’ he said. ‘Calm down and think. Think think think.’ He crawled as fast as he could, trying to escape the heat. His head smacked into something.
A door!
His father’s study. Unable to see anything above him, he reached into the dense, churning smoke, for the knob. He turned it and took one last look down the hall, only to see flames rushing at him with a roar, like a living thing feeding on the oiled wood. He dove inside and slammed the door. The relative coolness of the study was an instant relief.

Nothing in his twelve years of life had prepared him for this. He knew if he were going to survive he would have to get out of the house, and do it fast. Dashing to the window, he threw open the shutters. The sight stunned him. Flames engulfed the forest. Although a clearing fifty strides across encircled the house, the heat was like being inside a furnace. At that moment, the top of a pine tree exploded, creating a huge fireball. A blast of intense heat, noise, and wood struck the house, shaking Justus out of his reverie. There was no one to help them. The nearest holding was a half-day’s ride.

Justus screamed out the window but heard no answer. No father, mother, or brother came to his aid. He’d have to do this
himself.
Justus blew out a shaky breath. Desperately searching the room for something to help manage the long bone-breaking drop, all he found were books. His father’s priceless collection had taken a lifetime to accumulate, but it was worthless to him now. The door groaned, buckling from the heat. Turning to the window, he shoved aside the heavy velvet curtains. Grabbing the mass of cloth, he jumped up, trying to pull them down. With his meager weight, it took several attempts but finally they fell in a heap. The heavy brass rod banged to the floor next to him, nearly striking his head. At that moment, the door burst in two, and flames eagerly rushed onto the rug. He had no time to spare. Justus braced the rod across the window and shoved the red velvet into the brightly lit night. He looked down. The drop below the curtain was still high, but not impossible. ‘You can do it,’ he muttered. ‘Just make sure you land right.’ He tried to calm himself. ‘Just like jumping out of the hayloft.’

Justus eased out the window, being careful to grip the thick cloth firmly. He had lowered himself just two handholds when there was a ripping sound. He looked up as the curtain tore free.

Time seemed to slow, and he became acutely aware of everything around him. The night sky stood out in stark, beautiful clarity.

Do the stars always shine that brilliantly?

His body rotated. The broad wooden planking of the house passed inches before his face; he could count the dowels holding them.

His thoughts were as weightless as he felt, floating through his mind.

Is this how birds feel?

This is really going to hurt.

Then the magic moment was over. Time rushed to catch up, sweeping at him with blinding speed. Justus landed on his side with a sickening thud, nearly in the position he slept each night. He felt like a mule had kicked him, and knew something inside him had broken. His first reaction was to move. As he tried, his mouth gaped like a fish out of water, unable to breathe. Moving was out of the question; breathing was oh so much more important. Would this be it? Dying, unable to simply draw a breath? Through his desperate struggles, air slowly worked its way into his wrecked body. He coughed and pain lanced through him like a bolt of lightning, nearly causing him to black out. The flames had leaped out the window and were working down the side of the building. It seemed they didn’t want their prey to escape.

No, that wasn’t going to happen. Maybe he could roll away. Justus pushed his hand onto the ground and carefully eased onto his back. Each movement brought a shock of pain, as his shattered bones pierced him. Still, he had to get away, had to move, so he pushed, digging in his heels. By his fourth try, he’d traveled a hand-width. It was no use. He was going to die. Justus let out a small breathless sigh and looked up.

Directly into his brother’s face.

‘Justus, are you all right?’ Jonas asked. ‘I just got out of the house. It’s an inferno in there! Have you seen Mother or Father?’ Even if Justus could have drawn the breath to talk, he wouldn’t have been able to get a word in edgewise. Jonas stopped when he rolled his eyes upward. ‘Don’t pass out on me, Justus. Come on now, stay with me.’

Justus wheezed, ‘I’m not...you idiot...can’t...breathe. Ribs...hurt.’

‘Oh Justus, I’m sorry. I didn’t even give you a chance to — ’

‘Please.’ Justus pointed weakly at the burning house. ‘Hot...away.’

‘Right, of course. Okay. How do we do this? I mean, what hurts?’

‘Everything...my side...broken.’

‘Let me see what we’re working with,’ Jonas said, as he lifted the nightshirt up. A small gasp of alarm let Justus know things were not good. ‘Okay. I’m going to get under your arms and pull you along.’ His brow wrinkled in concern as he tried to reassure Justus as well as himself. ‘Tell me if it hurts too much, and we will try it another way. All right?’

Justus nodded.

As Jonas lifted slightly and started dragging him through the yard, Justus started to moan softly, and sweat broke out on his face.

‘Should I stop and let you rest?’

‘No,’ Justus said through the cloud of pain. ‘Go.’

Jonas shook his head. ‘You’ve always been the bookish one. How did you get so tough?’ He dragged Justus until they were at the stone cistern in the courtyard. ‘I figure this will be the best place. If things get too bad, I can douse us with water. Does that sound good to — ’