Azaria (49 page)

Hadir, who had joined the Ta’araki gathering that morning, always kept his medicine bag on his belt, as any good Ta'araki was supposed to. He ran over immediately, opening it as he raced past the other Ta'araki, who were all watching the surprising series of events in astonishment. He pulled two clean scraps of fox fur out and pressed them against Azaria's wounds, staunching the flow of blood.

"Get away from her, or I'll kill you both too!" Yumineh screamed. All eyes settled back on her and saw her standing ready, another spear notched into her thrower. "The Ta'ar demand her life! You must give her to Them!"

Azerban turned his back to his daughter, placing himself between her and yet another spear.

"Get away from her, Hadir! She must be punished!" Yumineh screamed, drawing her spear thrower back.

Azerban held his palm out. "Stay where you are, Hadir! Yumineh, let's talk about this." Hadir remained by Azaria's side. He would not have left her even without Azerban's command.

"There's nothing to talk about, Ta'araki! Azaria must pay for her evil. She’s the reason the Temple was destroyed. Ask Daneel. She’ll tell you," Yumineh cried. Then she looked to Izyl, begging for help. "Izyl, tell them!!"

Azerban had no idea what the girl’s wild ravings were about, but he did turn to Izyl. The confirmation was in her eyes. Whatever it was Yumineh was screaming about, there was at least some truth to it. "Yumineh! What is this you’re talking about? How is Azaria responsible for the damage at the Temple?"

"Izyl, you didn’t tell them?" she said, facing her mentor, a look of anguished betrayal falling over it.

Izyl stepped toward the front of the platform, her open hands held out. She was startled by the hatred in the girl’s expression, but could hardly blame her. Shortly after the meeting back in Boar Camp, when Takur had announced the Great Temple had been violated, Yumineh had come to her in a great panic, explaining the reason for the damage. Azaria had snuck to view the placing of the great stone, despite her moon-bleeding. In her hysteria, Yumineh had made Izyl swear to tell the other Ta’araki of the transgression. She’d made her swear Azaria would be punished. Yumineh wanted to tell Takur herself, she’d wanted to blurt out the truth to everyone, but her fear of driving Dogahn further away had kept her silent.

Promising Yumineh was the only way to keep her quiet. So Izyl gave her oath, knowing full well she wouldn’t keep it. She didn’t want Azaria blamed for the destruction. Azaria was innocent. No matter how ardently Yumineh argued to the contrary, Izyl couldn’t bring herself to let Azaria be held responsible for the broken standing stone.

She despised Azerban, not his daughter.

And she had another, more personal reason for protecting Azaria. It had always angered her how the men constantly blamed a woman’s blood for every ill thing that befell them. Although she recognized the importance in keeping evil spirits at bay, Izyl had never believed they had anything to do with a woman’s moonflow. She didn’t know why women bled each moon, but was convinced it had more to do with pregnancy than evil spirits. Why else did a woman stop bleeding once she began carrying?

However, the fact remained that she’d betrayed the girl she loved, who she’d helped raise, who had placed in her complete trust. Betrayed her to the benefit of Azaria, her most bitter enemy.

"Yumineh, I didn’t," she said, starting slowly, her voice gaining as she spoke. "I didn’t tell them. Because it isn’t true. I’m sorry. But it doesn’t matter. Put your spear down. Azaria is not the reason. The Temple was only damaged – not destroyed. And it was by the hand of our enemies. Not Azaria’s. It was the Kebar. We know this. Put your spear down. Stop this foolishness."

"No, Izyl," Yumineh cried, tears gushing down her cheeks. Despite her anger with Izyl, she loved her too much to turn her spear on her. Her real rage was still with Azaria and how, even with a spear through her, the Boar Camp girl was still somehow managing to tear her world apart. "She’s turned you against me too, Izyl. Why does everyone defend her? She’s evil. She’s fooled everyone."

Silence fell and hung in the air as everyone watched Yumineh break. Azerban released the breath he’d been holding, sensing the end of this nightmare would soon be over. He looked back to Hadir, who was oblivious to it all, frantically working to save the life of his mentor’s daughter. Remembering he should be helping his acolyte, Azerban pivoted toward him.

But Yumineh noticed the abrupt movement. Her wavering spear steadied and she shouted, "Get away from her!! Both of you! Azaria is responsible for the destruction of the Great Temple. She came during her moonblood. The Ta’ar want vengeance! They’ll be angry at us all if we let her live. I’ll kill you both if you get in Their way!"

"No, Yumineh," Izyl called out, gently at first, but rising with absolute authority. "You will not kill them. You will put your spear down. Now!"

"No!!" Yumineh spat. "The Ta’ar have claimed her. Ask Takur. He knows. They demand Their gift. Azerban has no right to interfere! Jesenia died because he interfered last."

"Yumineh..." Dogahn spoke softly. He, more than anyone there, knew exactly what was driving her to such insanity and thought he knew what would calm her. "Let Ta’araki treat her. I swear to you - I'll tie with you. Just let her live." Tears trickled down his cheeks as he begged for Azaria's life.

"No!! You lie! You'll choose her. I know you love her more than me," Yumineh cried, tears running down her face also. "She doesn't deserve you, Dogahn. I was meant for you..." The thrower shook again as her raised arm trembled.

Out of the corner of his eye, Dogahn saw the other guard emerge from the forest. In the confusion he had swung around and was now behind Yumineh, creeping toward her silently. "No, Yumineh," Dogahn replied. "I swear to you. I'll tie with you. We'll go to Fox Camp. Just me and you. We'll go to other Summer Gatherings. We'll never see Azaria again, either of us." He strained his mind to come up with whatever he thought would convince her, stalling as the hunter behind her neared.

Yumineh saw Dogahn's eye flick just briefly to a point behind her. Even in her desperate state, she was as intelligent as she was beautiful, and she realized someone must be approaching. As she turned, she felt her spear being tugged, spinning her around further. Then she briefly saw the guard's stony face right before his fist slammed into her jaw. Yumineh dropped to the ground, first to her knees and then on her face - out cold.

As the guard looked down at her still frame, he laughed. “That’s for the elbow.”

18

Azerban sat on his daughter’s furs, bent over her, his fingers on her wrist. Her pulse was erratic. Her breathing irregular. Her skin was pale and her eyes dull. Azaria was close to succumbing, she had little life left in her. Her father had been at her side nearly without pause since the events of the Equinox. His skin was a bit ashen also. He’d hardly eaten in those two harrowing suns, his appetite squelched. The meals Shaledar brought sat largely untouched.

In one hand he held a cold, wet piece of soft leather over Azaria’s forehead. Her fever was nearly uncontrollable. Although her wounds had healed some, the cough which had led to the whole ordeal remained. Her body didn’t have the strength to mend her wounds and fight her affliction. When she would briefly stir, the cough racked her lungs so violently, he immediately sedated her.

In his other hand, Azerban held a dry scrap of tough leather. Drawn on it was a picture of a headless man lying vertically. To the upper right of the deceased man a vulture was flying off with his head. Azerban looked back to it, again wondering to its meaning. Why was the avian flying off with the head? It didn’t make sense. The Kebar leader he’d treated with knew so much about them. Surely Vidai would’ve known it was their custom to save the head, and to let the vultures take the rest. How could that impressive man have been so wrong?

It was then that his thinking veered. What if the damage at the Temple wasn’t Vidai’s doing? He remembered back to the negotiations after the Kebar raid. Hadn’t Vidai suggested he was having trouble controlling the young men of his camp? What if it wasn’t Vidai’s actions after all? What if it was the young men of his camp who’d caused the destruction, in spite of their elder’s orders? Vidai had said some of their young saw the Temple as a claim. The immature were always acting out. Natu young surely were. If the young Kebar hunters were the ones who’d caused the destruction, wasn’t it possible they didn’t know as much about Azerban’s people as Vidai did? Could they have caused the destruction and been confused about what the Natu did with their dead when they tried to claim responsibility? It was possible. Azerban had to admit it was possible.

While pondering this new revelation, Azerban’s thoughts were brought to the gift Vidai had given him before their final negotiations. The mixture the Kebar healing woman had concocted. The medicine meant for his mate, for Zephia. He’d never seriously thought about using it. He hadn’t trusted Vidai enough or believed Kebar healers would have knowledge unknown to the Natu. He still didn’t trust them. His current theory regarding the origins of the charcoal drawing just wasn’t enough to dispel that mistrust.

Or was it?

Azerban knew his daughter would not survive this fight. Hope was irrational. After all that had happened over the last moons, it seemed Azaria’s fate was now more certain than ever.

But what if there was one last option?

He had to seize it.

It might very well kill her. But the spear had done that already. The wounds were too much to deal with along with her sickness. What if the potion could mitigate the spirits? Then she might become strong enough for the wounds to fully heal. He had to try. How could he not?

Azerban dug through his belongings until he finally found the stomach lining filled with a syrupy, deep brown mixture. He squeezed the smallest amount into the palm of one hand, poked the end of his smallest finger into it and brought the sample to his nose. It was acrid, a foul concoction. But then medicinally components usually were. He took it as a good sign. He then brought his finger to his tongue. It tasted even worse. Another good sign.

After mixing the tiniest amount in a solution of water, Azerban brought a cup to Azaria’s lips, bracing her head so the bitter fluid would trickle down her throat.

Then he sat back and waited, knowing this new hope too, was everything but sensible.

During the night, after examining his daughter, and finding no obvious ill effects of his experimentation, Azerban mixed a little more of the dubious concoction with fresh water and brought it to his daughter’s lips. The next morning, he repeated the exercise, administering even more.

The following morning, confident now the mysterious concoction was at least not harming his daughter, Azerban administered almost twice as much as he had the night before. He thought maybe Azaria’s cough had softened just the tiniest amount, but couldn’t be certain. He still would not allow himself any shred of optimism. Her condition hadn’t changed visibly over the last two suns, but at least she wasn’t getting worse.

She was still with him.

Azerban largely kept vigil over his daughter alone. Although he’d always been a man who valued the company of others, enjoyed the banter that went along with social interaction, now he preferred solitude. Many did stop by. Shaledar came by several times every sun, to check on Azaria and to bring food and anything else Azerban and his children needed. But the visits were brief. An awkwardness permeated the shelter like a heavy fog. The discomfort was understandable. He’d tried to kill his own child - Shaledar’s niece. Dogahn came over too, but less often and his visits were even shorter. Both men quickly grew uncomfortable after greeting one another. Neither held any ill will toward the other, but both understood why the other might.

In fact most of Boar Camp at least poked their head in to drop a word of encouragement every now and then, or to see if there’d been any change in her condition. By now, all knew what had occurred at the Great Temple. Although most everyone had compassion for the well-liked Ta’araki and his plight, no one seemed to know quite what to say or how to help. And the feared cough kept most from stepping all the way in.

There was one who never stopped by. Azerban had not seen Takur since the Equinox, although he had a good idea of his activities. The lead Ta’araki of Boar Camp was often with Sakon or Dizon, plotting the strike against the Kebar. From what Azerban had gathered, the men were making good progress with their preparations. The scouts had reported Vidai’s camp hadn’t returned to the same spot they often summered at, damning evidence which Takur and Sakon’s clan used to further condemn their Kebar neighbors and to inflame the passions of their own people. Why wouldn’t they return, if they weren’t hiding? No one bothered to argue the obvious rebuttal. It wasn’t at all unusual for the Kebar to switch spots. Their dwellings weren’t permanent. They often didn’t reside in the same location two summers in a row.

As it became apparent that the medication Vidai had given him was not going to kill his daughter, and might even help, Azerban grew more and more convinced attacking the Kebar wasn’t in the best interests of his people. He told almost every visitor about the potency of the mixture, how it was ridding the evil spirits from his daughter’s body and about his new theory concerning the damage to the Great Temple. No one paid him much attention, however. Most looked at him as if he’d completely lost his mind. He had little credibility left concerning the subject. He’d let the captive go, and they’d been rewarded with another attack. No matter which Kebar were responsible, it was a difficult point to argue against. As frustrating as the situation was, his primary concern was with his daughter and so Azerban focused on her, and left the talk of war for others. The stone had already been dropped. Its momentum was carrying it down the hillside. Azerban could not stop it now.

As suns passed, Azaria’s condition finally showed signs of definitive improvement. When she opened her eyes one morning and asked her father for water without coughing, Azerban emotionally imploded, breaking down into a giant mess of sobs and smiles.

The arch of her recovery was less like the trek up a steady incline and more like the passage through a deep, winding cavern. But she was progressing. She was healing. And as was often the case with the young, as she turned each lightless corner, her pace quickened, her will strengthened, until finally the radiance of a full rehabilitation was within sight.

Azaria stepped gingerly on the soft sand along the familiar stream path. It was the first extended stroll her father had consented to since the events of the Vernal Equinox, nearly a full moon since that terrible sun.

Her health had improved greatly since then. It was an outcome some found difficult to believe. Rumors had previously spread like silky webs in the quiet hideaways of Boar Camp that the daughter of the mighty Ta’araki would not live. Most took her turnaround as further evidence she was a favorite of the Ta’ar, despite her father’s claims of the Kebar medicine. One thing was clear - surviving her ordeal had raised her status markedly, if not to the soaring heights it had reached just after her suicide plunge off High Cliff.

As usual, Azaria was unprepared for the curious gawkers when she placed her first foot out of her shelter. And when the bold openly marveled at her recovery, she brushed them off, joking that if one must take a spear to the gut, surrounded by a gathering of Ta'araki was the best place for it.

But she knew how badly she’d been injured, had some sense to how close to death she really had come. Azaria believed her father deserved the credit for bringing her back and made sure everyone knew she thought so.

Her praise for her father belied a more nebulous truth however. A once unfathomable chasm had opened between the two. One that neither knew how to close.

Just as Azaria continued to improve, her father’s mental integrity weakened. The near loss of his daughter, so soon after losing his mate, had almost destroyed him, and as grateful as he was for her turnaround, dealing with the implications of her recovery threatened to finish what had begun. His daughter no longer spent whole suns unconscious. Her mind was as sharp as ever and he knew that she had questions. Questions Azerban could not answer for himself, much less begin to explain to her. And that was not the worst of his troubles. As the breath of life returned to her, Azerban recognized something he’d never seen in his daughter’s eyes.

She feared him.

It was a truth that tore at his very soul and whether or not he would survive it would be up to him. There was nothing anyone could do or say to help him.

For Azaria, that same truth was much murkier. She felt no ill will toward her father. Her feelings were jumbled. She loved him, as she always had. She never said to herself that she despised him. There was no thought of fear, not that she consciously recognized anyway.

But something in her heart had changed. Azaria had lost an innocent sense of security that naturally develops growing up in a strong, loving family structure, surrounded by loyal friends in a stable community. Although she wasn’t fully aware of it, she’d lost her place in her world. She was now alone, could rely on no one but herself. And it was that vague sense which so scared her, and that which her father mistook for fear of himself.

Azerban could not talk to his daughter of what had occurred. His fear of losing her completely, his shame in his mistakes, his failing courage in the face of his trials kept him silent. And his continued self-perceived cowardice ate at him, like invisible bacteria devouring a rotting corpse.

Azaria could see the despair in her father’s eyes whenever she stole a glance. She wished he would talk to her, but was also fearful of that conversation. She wanted to know why she’d been laid upon that altar, how it was he came to be standing above her, with Ta’araki all around and vultures above. But she couldn’t bring the subject up herself. She knew it was eating at him, knew she was the reason and despite everything that had happened to her, was lost in the senseless logic of a victim’s guilt.

Nor could she get the information she longed for from anyone else. When Dogahn, Daneel or any of her other friend’s did visit, her father hovered nearby, leaving them no space to talk. Azaria was sure he was doing it deliberately and suspected he feared she would find out more than he was ready for her to know. That’s what really scared her.

And so, as she continued along the stream, Dogahn's steadying hand in hers, Azaria knew next to nothing about what had happened to her. She occasionally placed one foot in the chilly water, letting the cool, clear liquid engulf the bottom of her foot. The chirping birds, twittering their sweet songs back and forth among the trees that stood along the water, were solacing. The two walked most of the way silently, to wherever it was he was leading her. Azaria was surprised her father had consented to the outing. Perhaps he finally realized he couldn’t hide her away forever.

Azaria knew Dogahn had somehow been involved in those terrible events - that he knew more about them than most. But now that she had the opportunity, she found herself hesitant.

Finally they came to a large boulder, which Azaria recognized as the place he'd first kissed her. He put his arm around her waist and delicately backed her up against the massive rock, in almost the same spot she remembered. Then he put his lips to hers and she accepted them hungrily. When he broke the kiss, she could detect his discomfort, as if he were distressed he'd overstepped an unmarked line, despite how eagerly she'd met him.

She was not surprised. It seemed everyone was nervous around her lately.

She brought a finger to his mouth and let it linger on his lower lip before playfully pulling it away. "You don't need to be nervous around me anymore, Dogahn. You saved me, remember?"

"Yeah, but," he answered, looking down. "I'm not sure it makes up for everything else."

"It doesn't," she joked, hoping to ease his mind. But upon seeing his hurt look, she quickly continued. "But it goes a long way. At least you have your second chance, right?"