Mist upon the Marsh: The Story of Nessa and Cassie (23 page)

Chapter XXVI:

Brother

A
t half-past two, the remainder of the house arrived. Having lacked its two swiftest runners, it had taken some time to return, so great was the burden of the wounded. Yet none were wounded so very terribly as Caramon; and so Ima went immediately to assist Ceir in the parlour. She left Juna and Ara with instructions to care for the remaining injured.

With wounds bordering on a serious nature were Bax, Maewen, Renn and Nina.

These needed be transported immediately to their beds, and visited in succession. Misha, Finn, Dor, Abbin and Leyra had all suffered some sort of pain, and some even were bleeding profusely; but they needed not the attention of either Juna or Ara, and were tended well enough by what elders remained downstairs.

Nessa looked through the doorway, and saw Leyra there, seated on a chair in the foyer. Pala was seeing to a wound on her left arm. So preoccupied was she, for some moments, with wincing, and squeezing her eyes shut tight, she did not notice that Nessa looked upon her. But after a little she sensed her eyes, and turned her head. Her face was white, and blank. She opened her mouth to speak; but then shook her head, and closed it again.

~

The night was long. As the clock struck five, the world outside the windows began to relinquish some of its darkness; but that which dwelt within the house could not be dispelled so easily.

Ceir and Ima had finished with their attempts. Nothing could be said more of them, than that they were merely attempts – for when Ceir emerged from the parlour, the flock which awaited her bore disheartening witness to her tears. They spread like a contagion through the air, affecting each and every eye present.

Ima had departed early from the room, taking Dechtire with her, in order to grant Ceir a bit of time alone with her son. But Ceir saw quickly that there was not much time to be had; and so after she had spoken what words were in her heart to say, and held Caramon for a moment in her arms, she came to call the others into the parlour.

Members of the house of Huro nodded to Dahro’s people, with what reassurance they could manage, and moved themselves off to the dining room. Ceir led Dahro through the open doorway, with Nessa just behind him, followed by Dechtire, Orin, Faevin, Leyra, Baer, Ima, Ayo and Ara.

Dahro and Ceir knelt down beside Caramon, and offered him for his impending journey all the words of love they had ever before spoken to him; and perhaps some they had not. After reciprocating doubly all their sentiments, Caramon raised his eyes to the others, and smiled as best he could.

“Farewell,” he said. “You all are so very dear to me – much more than you shall ever know. The honour was mine, to have lived so long with such noble Endai.”

He spoke thickly, and coughed frequently. He looked to Nessa and Dechtire, and called them down to him.

With aching hearts they went, and settled themselves on the floor beside him. Nessa looked into his face; and when she met his eyes, there was such a power that connected them, in that moment and time, that she felt it impossible he should leave her. To rip him away now, would be to tear away a part of herself; and the ensuing injury could be naught but fatal.

It was almost something of a relief – relief, with a large accompaniment of anguish – when he turned his eyes to Dechtire. She fell forward, and kissed him deeply, while tears rolled down both of their faces.

He sat back, and rested against the pillow there beneath him. Then he reached out, and took one of Nessa’s hands, and one of Dechtire’s.

“I need tell you both,” he said, with a terrible gurgle of blood rising up in his throat; “that you are what I love most in this world. Know it always; never forget it.”

He took their heads under either of his arms. They lay like that for what seemed long hours – but what could have been only moments. With their ears pressed to his chest, they could hear clearly his breath, as it began to abate, and slowly departed.

In the moment of his leaving, Nessa raised her eyes quickly, and looked into his own. She witnessed the exact second wherein their light, bright even on such a dark precipice as he was fixed upon, disappeared. All became so very still, and so very silent, that she was for a while convinced her own heart may have stopped beating.

Ceir let out a scream, and hurried from the room. Ima and Ara followed after her.

Dechtire turned her eyes away, and began to heave, as if she might be sick. She staggered to her feet; stumbled across the room, and nearly took a tumble; but was caught in the arms of Baer. She shook herself free of him with a shriek, and made her exit after the elder women.

All the rest stood solemn, and still, with their heads bowed. Nessa turned back to Caramon.

Upon his lips were the sticky remnants of what foam had clung to them, as he fought against Arol. They reminded Nessa of the shining trails his screams had left behind.

She looked for a moment more at his mouth; but then used her sleeve to wipe it clean. Then she bent to kiss his face.

When she raised her head, she felt the heavy sensation of eyes upon her; and could see them, even, out of the corners of her own. She knew that she must escape. So she looked once more to Caramon, and pulled the blanket that covered him up over his shoulders. After all – winter had come upon them.

“Why, brother?” she whispered. “Why did you do it?”

She dropped her head down to Caramon’s breast, and closed her eyes there a moment, with his large hand held in her own. She remembered his words; and wondered why he had not heeded them.

And what is it, to be a man? To lose one’s head, and speak of acts the likes of which he knows he cannot achieve? Should I foam at the mouth, and slam my fists against the tabletop? Will that make me a man?

“You have died a brave man, brother,” she told him. “Never doubt that.”

She pressed his hand, and kissed him once more.

Her father stood just behind her. She looked into his face, so white with grief – and his eyes, so red with the same. She fell against him.

“What will we do, Father?” she asked softly. “What will we do without him?”

“I don’t know,” he said. He laid a hand against his eyes, while he held to Nessa with the other. “I don’t know, my darling.”

Nessa disconnected from him, and took her head into her hands. When finally she opened her eyes, she saw Leyra, looking towards her. She could make no judgment as to the expression upon her face.

With a final glance at her brother, she fled the house.

In wolfen form, she raced towards the forest, howling all the way. If any Ziruk remained, she issued an invitation now, to come for her. To fight her.

She had hardly even yet begun, when she saw several wolves exit the hill, and begin chasing her. They thought her mad with grief, and seemed to have it in mind to restrain her, and return her home.

She turned towards them, and gave a loud yelp. Then she whirled about, and started off again, at such a pace that they had no hope at all of gaining her. She saw that they understood this, when she looked back to gauge their position. She had gone some way already into the forest; and they had halted at the tree-line, panting heavily. She could not make out, in the darkness, the identities of the first two; but she saw clearly enough, the blackness of Dechtire standing there at the edge of the field, staring after her as she disappeared into the trees.

She did not halt, till she had come to the Black River. She looked up at the height of the crag, hanging above; but had not the will to scale it.

She jumped into the river, and swam out to the middle. She stopped her legs; felt herself begin to sink; struggled not at all, as her head dipped below the surface. She considered seriously leaving it as it was – but was struck by a sudden horror, and the remembrance of her father’s ravaged face.

She returned to the bank, and flung herself onto the grass. There she lay for some time, howling occasionally at the rising sun. Dark clouds crept stealthily across the lightening sky. They threatened rain, and an interruption of what beauty the morning had promised.

The sun shone.

The clouds covered it.

Torrents of water broke loose from the sky.

Finally Nessa rose, and hurried again towards the forest. Her feet began to itch with inaction. She could not remain still, for even a moment. She needed run, to and fro, from side to side, till she hardly knew anymore where she was. She stumbled, and fell to the ground. The itching changed to pain. She ran to the nearest tree, stood up on two legs, and began scratching madly at the bark. She scratched and scratched, deeper and deeper, till her paws began to bleed. A number of her claws were pulled loose, and left sticking in the wood.

She fell again, and lay motionless in a bed of pine needles. The itching now filled all of her limbs; but she closed her eyes, and tried to sleep.

But, of course, sleep would not come. So she staggered again to her feet, and began hurtling through the forest, leaving a dark trail of bloody footprints in her wake.

Chapter XXVII:

No R
eprieve

T
here was no question as to her destination. Where else could she have gone? To return home was impossible. She feared that to do so, and to lay eyes again upon her brother, would be to lose her mind completely. And she feared that to remain alone, running this way and that through the trees, would amount to nothing less than a slow and painful death, as the constant and compulsory release of her roiling anger was resulting in a growing number of physical injuries. By the time she scurried into the ditch alongside Junction Road, the ground she traversed was suffering a much greater scarlet stain; and she no longer ran, but merely dragged herself along, with a grim and fierce determination that could have been spurred by nothing less than the loss of such a thing so dear to her heart.

She had left Dog’s Hill at daybreak. As she crawled down the side of LeMontagne Boulevard, she was safe under cover of darkness, moving through the thickest parts of the shadows, which kept nearest to the tall trees behind the houses at the East-hand.

She struggled up the drive of house number 245. She turned her eyes in silent supplication to Cassie’s window, which stood open. She had begun to fear that Cassie might not be at home; and this assurance set her head spinning, so that she fell for a moment down into the grass. She knew that she could not reach the window. She eyed wearily the pink door, and wished for it to open.

She crawled nearer to the hedge, and hid herself in a patch of shadow. She gave a short bark. Two nearby dogs returned the sound.

A second bark, slightly louder than the first, and sounding more closely to a yowl. Cassie’s head popped over the windowsill. She could not see into the shadows of the hedge, but she squinted her eyes just the same.

“Nessa?”

Nessa gave a sharp whine. Evident in it was the immensity of her pain, both of heart and of body. She inhaled deeply, exhaled shallowly. Her head dropped down to the ground.

“Stay there!” said Cassie. “I’m coming.”

It seemed that Cassie’s head had only just disappeared from the window, when the pink door swung open, and she came running out into the yard. She looked round for a moment, till her eyes settled on the spot of murk. She hurried over, dropped to the ground beside Nessa, and took a sharp breath.

“Nessa!” she cried. “What happened?”

To change her shape, Nessa expended every last ounce of energy she maintained. Her coat vanished, and the cold grass pressed wetly against her skin. She was breathing heavily, and clawing at the ground.

“Come on,” said Cassie, reaching down to help her rise. “Come on, Nessa. Give me your arm.”

She slipped Nessa’s right arm round her neck, and heaved her upwards. Together they stumbled across the yard, through the pink door, and up the stairs.

Once having managed to pull Nessa into her bedroom, Cassie locked the door behind them. Nessa could hear a voice calling out from down the hall. “Cassie MacAdam! You quit that thumping about, you hear me?”

Nessa slumped against Cassie’s shoulder, unable any longer to hold herself upright. They sank down to the floor. Cassie’s white T-shirt was covered with red stains.

She took Nessa’s face in her hands. “Tell me what happened,” she pleaded.

But Nessa could not speak. She fell with all her weight against Cassie; and the shadows of the night came to swallow the moon. The world became an open void, with nothing to see, and nothing to hold. So Nessa held that much more tightly to Cassie, fearful of falling into the deepest parts of the darkness. A darkness deep as Erebus; and as greatly unforgiving. From that place there could be no return.

~

When she came awake (or rather, jolted awake, at the conclusion of a particularly terrible nightmare), the sky still held fast to its blackness. She shook her head from side to side, in an effort to bring her troubled thoughts to a fade; but it was no good. There was no forgetting what she dreamt.

Somehow, she had come from her place on the floor, to lie upon the bed. She gazed for a little out of the window, endeavouring to slow her heaving breast. Beside her lay Cassie, silent and still, and soundly asleep.

She lifted the sheet that covered her, so that she might survey what damage she had done to herself. Nothing so terrible, it seemed. There were several wounds across her stomach, which Cassie had bandaged, and which stung quite uncomfortably beneath the gauze.

But the worst of it was her hands. All of the fingernails were vanished. She discovered this by gently lifting the bandages that Cassie had wound round them, to stanch the bleeding; and the sight was so very gruesome, that she wrapped them right up again. Time enough to worry about it later.

She tried again to close her eyes, so that she might sleep, for just a while longer; but all of her pains would not allow her rest. So she rose from the bed, and went to the window.

The stars were bright; but the moon appeared indifferent. It seemed to turn its face in every direction but Nessa’s own, though surely it knew of her distress. Surely it had seen Caramon fall. But it seemed not much to care.

A great strong arm took hold then of Nessa’s heart, wrapping round it ruthlessly. She gasped for breath, but could not find it; fought for release, but could not gain it. She fell to the floor, and clutched at the windowpane, laying her head despairingly against it.

The touch of Cassie’s hand brought her a start. She turned about, half-forgetful of where she was. But she felt then the hands upon her face, cool and soft; and all in an instant, she knew. She leant forward, and rested her head against Cassie’s chest. She felt two arms wrap around her; a pair of lips press her forehead.

“Will you tell me now?” asked Cassie. “Please, Nessa.”

Nessa turned to hide her face from the moon. Its cold and piercing light was almost more than she could bear.

“My brother,” she breathed, holding tight to Cassie’s hand. “My brother is dead.”

Cassie did not ask what had happened. She said not a word about it; but only cradled Nessa’s head, as she shed her first tears for her brother gone.

“I don’t know what to do,” Nessa whispered. “I’ve never been without him. I don’t know . . .”

Her tears became sobs, thick and choking, filling her throat so that she could scarcely breathe. She let her head fall back, and howled miserably. The sound cut horribly through the silence; and not half a minute later, there came heavy footsteps in the hall, that came to a definitive stop outside the bedroom door. There came loud knocking, and an even louder voice.

“What are you doing in there? What are you hollering about, Cassie?”

“Go away, Mama,” said Cassie.

“You – you tell
me?
You’ve got a hell of a lot of –”

“Go
away,
Mama!”

The voice of Birdie Post spoke no more. There came a swift kick at the door; and then a repetition of footsteps, back down the hall. A slamming door.

Nessa put her hands to her ears, and clenched her teeth. Her body shook as if in convulsions, and she would have fallen down to the floor, were it not for the strength of Cassie’s arms to hold her.

There came a fierce burning into her chest, and her limbs. She reached for her Turin – and realised that it did not hang from her neck.

She tore herself away from Cassie. She held again to the windowpane, so that she should not tumble backwards; but she continued to creep away. She scratched repeatedly at the place where her Turin should have hung, but could not make it come. So she threw herself down, and curled her knees to her chin.

Even the frigid moonlight now seemed full of fire. She sobbed down in her lowly place, struggling to retain control of her shape; but slowly it was slipping away.

She felt Cassie’s hands on her back, and jerked away. “No,” she moaned, twisting painfully around. “Don’t touch me . . .”

“Hush,” said Cassie, leaning back beneath the window. She took Nessa’s head in her lap. “Be still.”

Nessa pressed her face into Cassie’s stomach, to suppress her scream. But then the burning began to ebb; her head ceased to flame; and the moon turned cold. Her weary eyes slid shut.

There came from above her, then, the sound of Cassie’s voice. She sang softly, as she smoothed the damp hair from Nessa’s face.

Nessa’s body went still. She breathed slowly, as a river of dulcet tones flowed over her, doing what they would to bathe her wounds. Her tears began to dry; and she raised her hand, to touch Cassie’s face.

She knew not how long she lay, listening to the quiet voice of the angel there beside her, before her song finally ceased, and she was taken up more tightly in her arms. “Sleep,” she whispered in her ear.

“Stay,” said Nessa. “Stay with me.”

“Hush. Sleep.”

“I love you.”

She felt sweet lips on her own, pressing gently as sleep came.

~

“He died yesterday morning,” said Nessa, shading her eyes against the sunlight that poured into the room.

“What happened?”

Nessa could not say it, before shielding her face with her hands. But then she needed think of a way to tell Cassie; for, after all, there were many things she had not yet explained to her.

“Other wolves,” she said. “Once, they were of one of our own houses. But not anymore.”

“Why would they want to hurt him?”

Nessa laughed aloud; but it was checked with a mournful sigh. “They want to kill us all, Cassie,” she said. “They won’t stop till they have.”

She searched for fear in Cassie’s face; but found none.

Her lips began to tremble. “Will you let me stay?” she asked.

“I would never make you leave,” said Cassie. “Come and lie down next to me.”

So Nessa moved up beside her, and nestled her head beneath her chin.

~

Cassie was due at the diner that evening. She asked repeatedly if Nessa would rather she kept to the house; but Nessa would not ask for so much.

“I’ll be fine,” she said. “I have been selfish, anyway. I need to see to my family.”

Yet there was a rift come to separate her soul, filled with all the thoughts she could not speak about. There was an inexplicable fear, growing as an invincible weed, up and out of the rift; and she felt, in that moment, that should she part with Cassie, she would never see her again. There was a great chasm opening between them, it seemed, engendered by the bleeding wound of Caramon’s death. Nessa knew that if she returned home, and immersed herself in the act of nursing that wound, she would be incapable of finding a way to separate Dog’s Hill – her mother, her father, and Orin; Mindren, the joining ceremony, and the pervasive stench of death – from Cassie. Or, rather, she would certainly not be able, to find a way of adhering them one to the other, so that they should never divide, and never cause her any more grief of heart.

But how to say all these things?

“I’m sure you’re right,” said Cassie, laying an anxious hand on the back of her neck. “But you’ll come, if you need me?”

“Yes,” Nessa said simply.

Cassie came near to Nessa, and wrapped her in a warm embrace. Nessa pressed her face for a moment into her neck; but then raised her head, and attempted a smile.

“I don’t know if my mother and father will forgive me. To leave them like that! And Dechtire – I just don’t know. She loved him so much! But Orin is with her. Though I suppose he’ll be wanting to see me –”

Her voice fell short, and she looked fearfully into Cassie’s eyes. She knew that she could recover herself; that she could offer a false explanation. But she could not think of how. She understood, now, the trouble of trusting someone completely – when she herself was not at all trustworthy.

Cassie frowned, and said nothing for a little. But she dropped her arms from Nessa’s shoulders.

“Orin is her brother, you said. But why would he need
you
so very much?”

There was no fierceness, no sourness in this question; but rather only a sort of pressing curiosity. Yet it was obvious that, depending upon the answer which Nessa gave, the curiosity could change quickly to such fierceness, or sourness. So Nessa was afraid.

“I didn’t say that,” she began slowly.

“You might as well have.”

Nessa fell back a step.

“Tell me who he is, Nessa.”

“He is Dechtire’s brother. We have lived in the same house since we were

born –”

“That’s not what I asked you. Tell me who he
is.”

“He is to be my mate,” Nessa said flatly. “But I don’t love him.”

Cassie stumbled backwards, and sat upon the bed. She put a hand to her head; and then looked at Nessa. “Why – why didn’t you
tell
me?”

“I didn’t think you would understand,” said Nessa, falling on her knees before Cassie. “I was going to tell you – I was going to tell you everything –”