Marcus remained like a statue for a second, then opened his eyes which he had squeezed shut during the ordeal. He heard Neria scream, and then scream again. Now, there seemed nothing left of her voice but a soft wailing.
As he looked around himself, and saw the devastation, his mind reeled. Taking it all in one glance, the blackened and blistered heaps of flesh and bone where the men had just stood, the pathetic carcass of the horse, even the dead trees, understanding hit him. It was as he had feared a couple of nights ago. In his mind, he went over the conversation he had with Neria the night before, recalled the moment she had asked him what kind of magic she possessed. He had hoped, prayed, that what he feared might not be so. He had hoped for the first time in his life that he was wrong.
When he'd seen the dead leaves under the statue that night just after her Awakening, he hadn't dared to think any further. But now he had to face the facts. He was on the road with a Death Bearer and she still had no idea how to control it.
He let the shield dissipate and turned in his saddle to see how she was doing. She had stepped clear of her horse's corpse and held her head in her hands, as if afraid to see what she had done. Understandable. Her dress, which hadn't really survived their journey up until now to begin with, now was a mess of gore and slime. Even the little he could see of her face was streaked with a dark substance that looked suspiciously like blood. He pitied her deeply. What would become of a mind that possessed this kind of devastating powers? She had seemed a reasonable child, young woman actually, and he had thought that with the proper care she would be able to adapt to her new life. But this, how could someone be able to cope with this? She had Death at her fingertips. Marcus had never heard of a Death Bearer who found a way to use this particular kind of Magic for the good.
He stepped off his horse, carefully leading the mare to the side where she wouldn't smell the rank odors that were emanating now from the bodies. And took Neria in his arms. She recoiled from him. "Don't touch me! I don't want to hurt you!" But he persisted and pulled her into the safe circle of his arms again. She relented and started to cry vehemently. He stroked her hair and waited until she calmed down somewhat.
"Neria," he said gently. She didn't look up at him. "Neria, it is not your fault"
"Of course it is." Her voice was muddled. "I did this, it was me, it is all my fault."
"You did not know what you were doing. You didn't mean to kill these men, you only meant to defend yourself."
"But I killed them!" It was a cry of utter hopelessness. She started to sag through her knees and with all his effort he managed to keep her upright. He lifted her up, one arm under her knees and one supporting her back. She crawled up to his chest, turning her face against his tunic, avoiding to look at the scene around her.
A little further down the path, just past the tripwire that was still strung over the dirt, a small path branched off to the right. He followed it until he came to a small clearing. It had obviously been used by the band of brigands, because he saw the remains of a fire and everywhere personal belongings were scattered around. Marcus put Neria down gently on a blanket which was still stretched out near the charred remains of the fire. She rolled herself up in a fetal position, eyes closed, breathing ragged. He decided to leave her to herself for a while. Maybe she would calm down sufficiently to let him speak to her.
He walked back down the path unto the main branch and concentrated on the runes he cast quickly before him. A gust of air cleared the path, shoving the remains of the men and the horse into the underbrush and covering everything with dead leaves and branches. He couldn't do anything about the stink, but at least the visible evidence was out of the way like this. Not that the path was used often, but you could never know. Then, he returned to the small makeshift camp, leading his horse behind him.
Neria had fallen asleep.
Marcus looked down upon her pale, tired face. She had only wanted to protect him and herself. But by Dael, if she could wreak this havoc already, untrained as she was, what a formidable weapon would she become when she received the proper training. Not only was a Death Bearer very rare, and therefore subject to all kinds of scientist present in the Resistance, she also posed a threat. There was evidence that within the Resistance a radical movement was springing up, one that toyed with the idea to overthrow current government on the Continent. He didn't know how serious their movement was, or how far their ideas, but in their hands Neria could be a terrifying presence.
He had known she was strong. It was how he was able to pinpoint her location so exactly. He hadn't told her yet, but experienced Patternbearers had the ability to sense others over long distances. She had shone like a beacon, and the Resistance had ooohed and aaahed over what they felt. This is why he had wanted to bring her as quickly to their quarters in Jarden. But now, maybe he had to rethink that. If she was this powerful, bringing her to the Resistance without speaking to anyone about the matter first would maybe prove to be her death. Or worse.
It was then he thought of Darian. Darian might be their only hope.
Neria had already woken up again and she seemed puzzled as to where she was at first. But soon enough, when she sat upright, he saw the look of despair creep back unto her face.
"Tell me it didn't happen the way I remember it, please Marcus. Tell me this was all a bad dream?! Please!"
He didn't know what to tell her. But she could read it in his eyes. She shoved her matted hair back from her face with a tired gesture. "Is this what you call a Death Bearer, Marcus?" she whispered. "The ones who appear but once every seventy years or so? The ones that generally take their own lives before they cause any more harm? I understand that now."
"Neria, I don't know what to tell you. Yes, you are a Death Bearer and I have feared you were from the very beginning. I hoped that I was amiss, but alas, I wasn't." He shook his head. "I can't take you to the Resistance now." She looked puzzled and he explained. "Once word gets out that a Death Bearer has Awakened, they will be upon you like bees to the honeypot. The Resistance is torn, Neria. We all bow under the yoke of the contempt the Continent has for Patternbearers. One part of the Resistance wants nothing but a peaceful co-existence. But there are others who are more radical. And I do not know which is which. If I deliver you to the Resistance, I might as well deliver you into the wrong hands. They might want to use you for something you absolutely do not want. I want to spare you that fate."
She watched him with anxious eyes. Again the question rose in her mind: could she trust this man? He seemed open enough. His explanations sounded reasonable enough. But where would he take her if the Resistance wasn't an option?
Apparently he saw her distrust, and the question in her eyes. "I know you have no reason to trust me, especially now. I kept my suspicions about your abilities from you and maybe I was wrong to do so. But I did not want to make you anxious if it wasn't necessary. I know we have only just met, but believe me, I only want what is best for you. The only thing I can think of is to bring you to Darian."
"And who is that?"
"He's one of the persons in this world I trust the most. Once, he was connected to the Resistance, but he did not share any of their political views. And so he left. He actually does not live far from here. If we continue on to the Cranna Road,"
"I do not want to follow the Road!" It was almost a scream. "How can you expect me to face any people? I am a threat, I am Death walking. I, I cannot, please, please don't make me…" She sobbed again.
He nodded. She was right. It was dangerous to expose her to much to people right now. Not only for her own peace of mind, but also for the safety of other people they might encounter. He didn't know how much control she had over her awakened capacities, and neither did she probably. It occurred to him that he himself might be in danger. But that was something he would have to put aside. There was no one else who could help her.
"Then we will follow the road as closely as we can. I will try to find backways which we can follow, but I am not sure whether I will be able to succeed. We might have to abandon the horse that way. I know that the road to Darian's house branches off the Cranna Road just across the border, in Kirkenes. We will have to find a way to avoid the road though."
Neria nodded silently. She looked at the ruins of her dress and then around her. "I can't go on in these clothing. I wouldn't be able to bear. It might seem cruel but I want to try and find some clothing here. What do you think?"
"I think it is a very good idea." At least she still seemed to be able to think clearly. He watched her as she rummaged around the abandoned backpacks and satchels. She was able to find a roughly spun tunic that didn't look to filthy and a pair of leather breaches. While she disappeared behind some bushes to change he thought of Darian. It had been a while since he had seen the old man. Darian had been one of the Resistance's few Life Bearers. He'd been on the Council once, but as the debate within the Council grew more heated, he seemed more and more withdrawn. Darian had always been a man who trusted his own instincts. When he found that he could not agree with either side of the political fence, he had drawn his own conclusions and had left. Not only the Council, but the entire Resistance. Up until this day, Marcus didn't know quite what had happened, only that it had to do with some scrolls and old notes Darian had found on the use of Magic. The old man had a very keen mind, and he liked to look at things scientifically.
Neria came back, changed into the breeches and Marcus held his breath when he saw her. The leather breeches folded very snuggly around her thighs and buttocks and the rough spun tunic gave her a fragile look. She'd bound her hair into a tight braid and the angles of her face were truly breathtaking. Abruptly he took his mind off the visions she caused in his head, but not before he felt a twinge go through his entire body. This was NOT a good idea, the girl was a Death Bearer for crying out loud!
Neria caught his glance and she must have seen something in his eyes, because she averted her face. A high red blush crept up from beneath her tunic. Marcus scraped his throat, trying to find his voice. "Hm. Where is your cloak?" He turned round to look for it and found that it was relatively clean yet. With a couple of handfuls of dry grass he managed to get most stains off of it. She took it from him with grateful eyes and draped herself into it, hugging herself, trying to get warm again. "We must go, " he said softly. She nodded. "Darian is a Life Bearer, Neria. It is the closest I can get to your capabilities. Do you remember I told you that every Patternbearer carries within him or her a trace of the opposite element? You must have a trace of Life in you somewhere. Maybe Darian can help you develop it. Maybe he can help you to control yourself and focus on the light…"
He wiped away a tear that had slid across her cheek and pretended he didn't see her face lift up in quiet hope. He didn't want her to know that he highly doubted his theory. No one had ever done it before. But it certainly didn't hurt to try.
As he looked around himself, and saw the devastation, his mind reeled. Taking it all in one glance, the blackened and blistered heaps of flesh and bone where the men had just stood, the pathetic carcass of the horse, even the dead trees, understanding hit him. It was as he had feared a couple of nights ago. In his mind, he went over the conversation he had with Neria the night before, recalled the moment she had asked him what kind of magic she possessed. He had hoped, prayed, that what he feared might not be so. He had hoped for the first time in his life that he was wrong.
When he'd seen the dead leaves under the statue that night just after her Awakening, he hadn't dared to think any further. But now he had to face the facts. He was on the road with a Death Bearer and she still had no idea how to control it.
He let the shield dissipate and turned in his saddle to see how she was doing. She had stepped clear of her horse's corpse and held her head in her hands, as if afraid to see what she had done. Understandable. Her dress, which hadn't really survived their journey up until now to begin with, now was a mess of gore and slime. Even the little he could see of her face was streaked with a dark substance that looked suspiciously like blood. He pitied her deeply. What would become of a mind that possessed this kind of devastating powers? She had seemed a reasonable child, young woman actually, and he had thought that with the proper care she would be able to adapt to her new life. But this, how could someone be able to cope with this? She had Death at her fingertips. Marcus had never heard of a Death Bearer who found a way to use this particular kind of Magic for the good.
He stepped off his horse, carefully leading the mare to the side where she wouldn't smell the rank odors that were emanating now from the bodies. And took Neria in his arms. She recoiled from him. "Don't touch me! I don't want to hurt you!" But he persisted and pulled her into the safe circle of his arms again. She relented and started to cry vehemently. He stroked her hair and waited until she calmed down somewhat.
"Neria," he said gently. She didn't look up at him. "Neria, it is not your fault"
"Of course it is." Her voice was muddled. "I did this, it was me, it is all my fault."
"You did not know what you were doing. You didn't mean to kill these men, you only meant to defend yourself."
"But I killed them!" It was a cry of utter hopelessness. She started to sag through her knees and with all his effort he managed to keep her upright. He lifted her up, one arm under her knees and one supporting her back. She crawled up to his chest, turning her face against his tunic, avoiding to look at the scene around her.
A little further down the path, just past the tripwire that was still strung over the dirt, a small path branched off to the right. He followed it until he came to a small clearing. It had obviously been used by the band of brigands, because he saw the remains of a fire and everywhere personal belongings were scattered around. Marcus put Neria down gently on a blanket which was still stretched out near the charred remains of the fire. She rolled herself up in a fetal position, eyes closed, breathing ragged. He decided to leave her to herself for a while. Maybe she would calm down sufficiently to let him speak to her.
He walked back down the path unto the main branch and concentrated on the runes he cast quickly before him. A gust of air cleared the path, shoving the remains of the men and the horse into the underbrush and covering everything with dead leaves and branches. He couldn't do anything about the stink, but at least the visible evidence was out of the way like this. Not that the path was used often, but you could never know. Then, he returned to the small makeshift camp, leading his horse behind him.
Neria had fallen asleep.
Marcus looked down upon her pale, tired face. She had only wanted to protect him and herself. But by Dael, if she could wreak this havoc already, untrained as she was, what a formidable weapon would she become when she received the proper training. Not only was a Death Bearer very rare, and therefore subject to all kinds of scientist present in the Resistance, she also posed a threat. There was evidence that within the Resistance a radical movement was springing up, one that toyed with the idea to overthrow current government on the Continent. He didn't know how serious their movement was, or how far their ideas, but in their hands Neria could be a terrifying presence.
He had known she was strong. It was how he was able to pinpoint her location so exactly. He hadn't told her yet, but experienced Patternbearers had the ability to sense others over long distances. She had shone like a beacon, and the Resistance had ooohed and aaahed over what they felt. This is why he had wanted to bring her as quickly to their quarters in Jarden. But now, maybe he had to rethink that. If she was this powerful, bringing her to the Resistance without speaking to anyone about the matter first would maybe prove to be her death. Or worse.
It was then he thought of Darian. Darian might be their only hope.
Neria had already woken up again and she seemed puzzled as to where she was at first. But soon enough, when she sat upright, he saw the look of despair creep back unto her face.
"Tell me it didn't happen the way I remember it, please Marcus. Tell me this was all a bad dream?! Please!"
He didn't know what to tell her. But she could read it in his eyes. She shoved her matted hair back from her face with a tired gesture. "Is this what you call a Death Bearer, Marcus?" she whispered. "The ones who appear but once every seventy years or so? The ones that generally take their own lives before they cause any more harm? I understand that now."
"Neria, I don't know what to tell you. Yes, you are a Death Bearer and I have feared you were from the very beginning. I hoped that I was amiss, but alas, I wasn't." He shook his head. "I can't take you to the Resistance now." She looked puzzled and he explained. "Once word gets out that a Death Bearer has Awakened, they will be upon you like bees to the honeypot. The Resistance is torn, Neria. We all bow under the yoke of the contempt the Continent has for Patternbearers. One part of the Resistance wants nothing but a peaceful co-existence. But there are others who are more radical. And I do not know which is which. If I deliver you to the Resistance, I might as well deliver you into the wrong hands. They might want to use you for something you absolutely do not want. I want to spare you that fate."
She watched him with anxious eyes. Again the question rose in her mind: could she trust this man? He seemed open enough. His explanations sounded reasonable enough. But where would he take her if the Resistance wasn't an option?
Apparently he saw her distrust, and the question in her eyes. "I know you have no reason to trust me, especially now. I kept my suspicions about your abilities from you and maybe I was wrong to do so. But I did not want to make you anxious if it wasn't necessary. I know we have only just met, but believe me, I only want what is best for you. The only thing I can think of is to bring you to Darian."
"And who is that?"
"He's one of the persons in this world I trust the most. Once, he was connected to the Resistance, but he did not share any of their political views. And so he left. He actually does not live far from here. If we continue on to the Cranna Road,"
"I do not want to follow the Road!" It was almost a scream. "How can you expect me to face any people? I am a threat, I am Death walking. I, I cannot, please, please don't make me…" She sobbed again.
He nodded. She was right. It was dangerous to expose her to much to people right now. Not only for her own peace of mind, but also for the safety of other people they might encounter. He didn't know how much control she had over her awakened capacities, and neither did she probably. It occurred to him that he himself might be in danger. But that was something he would have to put aside. There was no one else who could help her.
"Then we will follow the road as closely as we can. I will try to find backways which we can follow, but I am not sure whether I will be able to succeed. We might have to abandon the horse that way. I know that the road to Darian's house branches off the Cranna Road just across the border, in Kirkenes. We will have to find a way to avoid the road though."
Neria nodded silently. She looked at the ruins of her dress and then around her. "I can't go on in these clothing. I wouldn't be able to bear. It might seem cruel but I want to try and find some clothing here. What do you think?"
"I think it is a very good idea." At least she still seemed to be able to think clearly. He watched her as she rummaged around the abandoned backpacks and satchels. She was able to find a roughly spun tunic that didn't look to filthy and a pair of leather breaches. While she disappeared behind some bushes to change he thought of Darian. It had been a while since he had seen the old man. Darian had been one of the Resistance's few Life Bearers. He'd been on the Council once, but as the debate within the Council grew more heated, he seemed more and more withdrawn. Darian had always been a man who trusted his own instincts. When he found that he could not agree with either side of the political fence, he had drawn his own conclusions and had left. Not only the Council, but the entire Resistance. Up until this day, Marcus didn't know quite what had happened, only that it had to do with some scrolls and old notes Darian had found on the use of Magic. The old man had a very keen mind, and he liked to look at things scientifically.
Neria came back, changed into the breeches and Marcus held his breath when he saw her. The leather breeches folded very snuggly around her thighs and buttocks and the rough spun tunic gave her a fragile look. She'd bound her hair into a tight braid and the angles of her face were truly breathtaking. Abruptly he took his mind off the visions she caused in his head, but not before he felt a twinge go through his entire body. This was NOT a good idea, the girl was a Death Bearer for crying out loud!
Neria caught his glance and she must have seen something in his eyes, because she averted her face. A high red blush crept up from beneath her tunic. Marcus scraped his throat, trying to find his voice. "Hm. Where is your cloak?" He turned round to look for it and found that it was relatively clean yet. With a couple of handfuls of dry grass he managed to get most stains off of it. She took it from him with grateful eyes and draped herself into it, hugging herself, trying to get warm again. "We must go, " he said softly. She nodded. "Darian is a Life Bearer, Neria. It is the closest I can get to your capabilities. Do you remember I told you that every Patternbearer carries within him or her a trace of the opposite element? You must have a trace of Life in you somewhere. Maybe Darian can help you develop it. Maybe he can help you to control yourself and focus on the light…"
He wiped away a tear that had slid across her cheek and pretended he didn't see her face lift up in quiet hope. He didn't want her to know that he highly doubted his theory. No one had ever done it before. But it certainly didn't hurt to try.