Lies

Anya looked up from rearranging pans and skillets. “How are the cows?” she asked.

“They have something called mast—” Llew looked to Elka for help.

“Mastitis,” Elka supplied. “We will fix that in a few days.”

“I’ll need a day or two to design what you’re after, anyway,” Rowan said from his seat at the dinner table. “And a few wanders around the farm checking on things won’t do my creative juices any harm.” He smiled. “It’s nice to be away from the confines of town. And this project of yours … I’ve got a few flickers of how it could work already. Tomorrow, after breakfast, I’ll pull out my notebook and you can tell me as much as you know about this Braph’s work.”

A shiver ran down Llew’s spine at the mention of the magician’s name. Would he ever cease to affect her like that?

“They found pork jerky in a smoke house.” Anya indicated the table, now spread with plates, mugs, food, and a jug of water. “The only bread we’ve got is what you brought with you, but it should be enough for today. There are a few preserves here, too.”

Llew’s stomach growled. Yes, food would be wonderful.

“Great work. Thanks.” She clambered over the bench seat between Rowan and Jonas and sat. Her shoulder bumped Jonas’s as she pulled a bite from the bread, and she gave him a smile, which he returned. The small interaction lit her up. It felt good to sit beside him. Relief, first and foremost, but also like a quick breath before diving under again. His strength would wane, and she would need to keep propping him up, until they could find a permanent solution. But they had now , and she wasn’t about to ruin that by thinking about then; past or future.

She caught a glimpse of Karlani’s twisted lips across the table as Alvaro made room for Elka to sit beside him, opposite her brother.

“Luckily, some of the chickens are laying.” Anya continued. “So, we might look to get the range going tonight—” She paused, looking between Rowan, Alvaro, and Karlani. “If everyone agrees we can afford the smoke coming from the chimney.”

The three assessed each other. Rowan shrugged. “They’ll check this place if we make our mark or not, right?”

“Likely,” Jonas said.

“Let’s make our mark,” Karlani said. “I need to eat.”

“I do love a woman with an appetite.” Alvaro smirked.

“You have no idea.” Karlani snapped up a large chunk of jerky from the plate in the middle of the table and took a big bite, meeting Llew’s flat stare as she chewed.

Llew dearly wanted to tell Karlani she had no right to be so cocky in their company, but she kind of did. They needed her strength.

“If you want to be of help, we need to do Merrid and Ard the dignity of bringing them down and giving them a proper farewell. We also need to be thinking about defense systems; some sort of alarm, at least. We need to know the moment we’re discovered. We need to give ourselves a fighting chance.”

“This place is too big to defend,” Karlani said. “I’m Syakaran, but there’s only one of me.”

“Then get creative.” Llew had no time for anything less than compliance. She had a mission. “Jonas and Anya might have some ideas.”

“Me?” Anya startled from where she had been pottering at the kitchen bench.

Llew shrugged. “I figure you’ve probably read something useful some time.”

“Oh, yes. Although, I’m usually better at remembering which book the information was in, rather than the actual wording, but I’ll see what I can recall. Oh! Speaking of which, Al, go get the— the thing from the bunker.”

“Me?”

Anya rolled her eyes and huffed, exaggeratedly bunched the front of her dress and headed for the door.

“I can get it.” Rowan stood. “Whatever and wherever it is.”

“Fine.” Alvaro extracted himself from the table. “I’ll get it. I know what she’s talking about.”

Rowan sat back down, and Llew exchanged shrugging glances with everyone at the table before turning to Anya for answers as the door closed behind Alvaro.

“Alvaro and I slept down there last night, in separate beds, of course.” Anya patted down her dress to ensure it hung properly again. “And— Oh, fine . It would’ve been better to say ‘ta da’ as he walks back in here, but he’s going to take too long, isn’t he?” Anya puffed out a breath. “We found Jonas’s vest with the knives. At least, we assume it’s yours.” She glanced at Jonas and grimaced. “Maybe Llew could wear it?”

Huh? Llew looked around the table. Surely someone else would be better suited to wearing the vest. Karlani? Hmm. Llew’s feelings blocked any contemplation of that option, no matter how pragmatic. Alvaro? Urgh, not with the way he felt about Jonas. Rowan?

He shook his head. “I’ve got some things in the carriage; besides, my guess is it’s a little tight across the shoulders.” He glanced Jonas’s way, who conceded with a nod. “It’s probably best suited to you.”

It surprised Llew how seeing Alvaro walk in brandishing Jonas’s knife vest troubled her – a carelessness that could simply be his own disinterest, or a jibe at Jonas – and she was relieved when Anya took it from him and held it up, opened.

“Put it on,” Jonas murmured.

Llew stood and slipped an arm through, turning so Anya could assist with the other, then buckled it. It was a little too big, though not by much.

“Looks good on you,” Jonas said.

Llew straightened, herself and the knife vest. Yes, she could imagine it did look good on her. All those blades easily at her disposal did boost her confidence.

After lunch, Rowan set off to survey the land, to see how the sheep, pigs, chickens, and other livestock fared, and to let his imagination play with what he knew of Braph’s inventions and how he could apply that to Jonas. Alvaro and Karlani reluctantly headed out to cut down Merrid and Ard’s bodies.

After checking that Jonas was still holding up with the blood she had given him earlier, Llew and Elka returned to the cows to check if their earlier ministrations were holding, or if they would need more constant care. The briefest of tingles passed from Llew to each of them.

Elka inspected the udders and acknowledged Llew’s evident disappointment with a tight smile. “The oil and their own bodies will fight the infection. They already look better.”

“Can I afford to sleep tonight?”

“I think s— so. It won’t kill them to wait the night, but I’m sure they would like relief if you happened to wake in the night.”

The cow Llew was scratching behind the ear leaned into the sensation, drawing a smile from Llew. “Well, I had better not let you down, huh?”

***

Jonas fell forward on his left foot, swinging the crutches out in front to catch him. So far, so good. He brought his right leg through in a natural motion, but when he shifted his weight to stand on the foot, it wasn’t where it needed to be. Instead of the foot being in front of him, ready to catch him and roll into the next step, the knee was bent, so the calf hung down, and the toe pointed to the gravel directly beneath him, not out in front. He shifted his weight back to his left leg, swung his right leg back, flung it forward again, and leaned into it, catching the heel on the ground and rolling onto the flat of the foot before it could succumb to gravity again. Not a natural stride at all. This was going to take some getting used to.

He kept the stride on his prosthetic foot short and caught his weight on his real left foot again and shaded his eyes against the late afternoon sun to watch Alvaro and Karlani’s efforts. They’d been discussing the merits of simply cutting the ropes and letting the bodies fall. Luckily, Alvaro had been squeamish enough not to want to risk rupturing anything. Karlani was up the top of the wooden frame, had cut the rope Merrid hung from, and was easing it down as far as she could reach for Alvaro to facilitate the final lowering of the woman’s body.

It was hard seeing the farming couple that way. They had deserved better, and they certainly hadn’t deserved to hang.

But it was done, and dwelling on it wasn’t going to change the fact, while practicing walking would improve his proficiency. Back to it, then. He hopped a little farther forward on his left leg to give himself a good arc to swing his right leg through and repeated the weight shift to catch the heel at the right time.

Footsteps crushed gravel and he looked up to see Llew coming from the cow paddock.

“How are they?” he asked.

“Good.” She pursed her lips as she approached, so Jonas leaned in for a kiss. In a quick moment, Llew smiled her pleasure, glanced past Jonas, looked ever so briefly like she might cry, swallowed that down, then gripped Jonas’s collar and pulled him in for a deeper kiss. He ran his tongue along her top lip and imagined things were different; they were here on their own, he was whole, healthy, they hadn’t lost anyone, and no one wanted them dead. But needing such perfection would doom their real relationship to failure, so he switched off that thinking and focused on the feel and taste of her in the midst of their reality. That reality wasn’t just ‘good enough’; it was damned near perfect.

Llew pulled back, resting her forehead against his, and Jonas suspected she was right there with him. Dreams were nice, but reality was better. Always would be, no matter how much it hurt.

Llew twisted her head so she could see past him while maintaining forehead contact, as Ard’s almost fully desiccated corpse touched the ground. Jonas swiveled to face the same way; shoulder-to-shoulder would have to do.

“You’ll want to say goodbye,” he murmured, for want of something better to say.

“I wish I didn’t have to.”

“You and me, both.” Jonas shifted so both crutches were under one arm and placed his other arm across Llew’s shoulders. “I don’t know how much time we’ll have to do it properly once we’ve got them down. I’m not real clued up on the Turhmos wildlife. There weren’t much at the border, I can tell you that much.”

“No.” Llew inspected her palms, as if they alone were guilty. “I suppose there wasn’t.”

Movement had them both turning to watch Rowan make his way down the grassy slope. He carried something, like an item of clothing … Leather. A knife vest.

Jonas’s blood ran cold, his eyes burned hot, and he was thrown right back to the day Hisham died, when Jonas himself had been little more than a shell and had done nothing but get his best friend killed and Llew caged. The sense of hopelessness and remorse settled in his bones.

“Hisham,” Llew said, slipped free of Jonas’s arm, and started forward as Rowan swung himself over the fence.

“I hope this won’t offend you, since I figure that must have been your friend,” Rowan said as he drew near. “But I also figured he’d rather we put these to use since he won’t be needing them anymore.” He twisted the vest, showing off the knife handles. “It’s a bit gross, sorry.” He drew the vest back as Llew approached. “It’ll need a clean.”

Jonas’s gaze followed every move of the vest. Holes, rimmed with dark stains, punctured the back, and a last few maggots fell from its folds.

“Where is he?” Llew asked.

Rowan nodded back over his shoulder. “Just over the rise. It’s been a while.” He grimaced.

“Doesn’t matter. We need to bring him down, pay our respects.” Llew looked back to where Alvaro and Karlani had laid out a couple of old blankets and were positioning the farmers’ corpses on them for transport.

“It might help that I think I found a family plot. At least, there are several cairns in a paddock in a shallow valley behind the house.”

“Perfect.” Llew’s shoulders dropped in relief, and she flashed Jonas a quick smile. “Something tells me Merrid and Ard would welcome Hisham into their family.”

“He loved Merrid’s stew.” Such an innocuous thing to say when his best friend lay dead from Jonas’s own stupidity and inaction. What did Jonas believe about reality? It hurt. Regardless, they couldn’t return Hisham to Quaver. “But he would’ve expected a cremation.” Though, he supposed it wouldn’t make much difference this long after his demise.

Llew turned back to Jonas and pulled him into a hug, and he returned it. A salve on a festering wound. They’d lost so many. He squeezed her to him.

***

Karlani insisted on eating before digging burial holes. Jonas couldn’t blame her. The Syakaran metabolism was a boon when based at the Taither barracks or Lord Gaemil Tovias’s estate. It had its downsides when traveling, especially on a budget. Luckily for Karlani, there was a stockpile of reasonably fresh eggs, for now, at least.

Llew asked how Jonas was feeling, and he had to admit to a loss of vigor already. She showed no distress, which he was grateful for, simply asked Elka to help them, ensuring a barrier between them as Llew replenished her blood between filling syringes.

Stepping from the house, Karlani paused to watch. She walked closer. “Aenuks can’t heal Kara.” Her voice held the barest hint of a question.

“But Kara can heal themselves.” Llew pressed her hand to an Ajnai while Elka lined up needle to vein for Jonas.

“But that doesn’t fix him, does it? He’s still got the … bug … thing.”

“We don’t know how to fight it, yet. But we will.”

“Hm.” It wasn’t obviously dismissive, but Karlani backed up and walked off to join Rowan and Alvaro at the family graveyard without another word.

Once Jonas insisted he felt fit enough to walk to the cemetery, Elka returned indoors to help Anya with dinner preparations, leaving Llew and Jonas to make their way across the yards between homestead and sheds, and across a paddock to a smaller fenced off area already home to several grave markers.

The land had a gentle, rolling quality to it, meaning not a single paddock was flat. Quite different to much of Quaver, yet Jonas found he liked it. It wasn’t so easy to get around with a false leg and crutches, but there was a tenor about the land itself that touched his core and made him feel like he belonged here. He almost laughed. Him – not just any Quaven; Syakaran – feeling settled in the heart of Turhmos. It didn’t gel with his upbringing, and yet he couldn’t deny that something about this land called to him. This land where Hisham’s journey had ended, where his best friend would be committed for eternity.

Merrid and Ard’s shrouded bodies lay beside a large, deep hole, and Hisham’s remains, such as they were, lay not far away by a narrower hole, striking a lonely figure in death. If he got the chance, Jonas would see about getting a message to Hisham’s mother, and Gilana. He thought it likely both women would appreciate the closure, if not the reality of it.

Rowan, Karlani, and Alvaro left the small fenced off area as Llew and Jonas arrived.

Rowan raised his shovel. “Signal when you’re ready.”

Alvaro reached a hand out to Llew’s arm. “They were real nice,” he said, then met Jonas’s eye. “And I— I liked Hisham.” He stood a moment longer, like he thought he should say more, then continued on to wait with the other two, leaving Llew and Jonas to their mourning.

Jonas looked on what remained of Hisham and remembered their years together. So few, now he thought on it. Not even a decade of friendship between them. They’d often farewelled each other at the Quaven-Turhmos border with brotherly love, preparing to never meet again, to return at the end of a campaign to shoulder slaps and bear hugs. It was routine to say what needed said, just in case, but they’d never gone so far as to believe it necessary. At least, Jonas hadn’t. Faster and stronger than anyone else on the battlefield, he’d had little to fear. And he knew Hisham’s abilities. Not Syakaran, no, but a talented soldier, a man always destined to put his body, his everything on the line for a greater purpose.

But on this farm, on that day, Jonas had been so caught up in his own losses, he’d shut down, while Hisham had stood up. And Hisham had fallen. And, for once, they’d not said their goodbyes. The one time they had needed to. The one time it would’ve counted.

Llew stepped in close, put her arm around his waist, and he adjusted his crutches and embraced her shoulders.

“I wish I’d had a chance to know him better,” she murmured. “And Merrid and Ard … It was like having family again.” Her voice tremored. Jonas squeezed her gently.

He didn’t know what he would’ve said had he known it would be his and Hisham’s last time. He didn’t know what to say now. Every fond memory he had of the man was now colored by the betrayal of keeping the secret of what really happened to Kierra and their child, Joelin. Hisham had been a good friend for many years; fun, and a true partner in all their adolescent mischief. But when it had mattered, his loyalty had been with Aris, not Jonas. Maybe he’d considered it as loyalty to Quaver, but Quaver would’ve wanted the child, if they’d known he lived. Aris should’ve, too, if he hadn’t risked whatever deal he’d struck with Braph coming to light. For over a year Hisham had known Jonas’s son lived, and he’d not breathed a word.

Llew glanced at Jonas, her eyes questioning, and he realized his anger had leaked through a tension in his arm, and likely showed on his face. He forced himself to relax, gave her a brief smile and rubbed her shoulder, just in case he’d squeezed too hard.

She returned the empty smile and turned back to the bodies, thinking her own thoughts about Hisham, or Merrid and Ard, and Jonas found himself gazing on her profile. If he’d wanted proof of his friend’s loyalty, she stood before him. She, the Aenuk Hisham had protected at Jonas’s request, against his own deeply ingrained biases. Hisham’s betrayal cut deep, but it was a single failing in years of friendship. And, if Jonas pushed himself to be charitable, he could sympathize with Hisham’s position, being stuck between his friend and what he perceived as his country’s wishes. Llew was Aenuk, and Jonas had learned to see beyond that. He could learn to forgive Hisham. Besides, Joelin still lived, Jonas still had a chance to reclaim him. Hisham was gone, his own dreams gone with him.

Jonas turned back to the remains and projected a silent apology for his doubts and his own actions that had led to the loss of his best friend’s life. And full forgiveness for that single failure.

He raised his hand to signal Rowan, figuring there wasn’t much point prolonging things, and the three moved in to lower the bodies into the graves. Rowan jumped into the hole dug for Merrid and Ard and signaled the other two to ease Ard over the edge while he kept the descent as dignified as possible. And so the farmers’ bodies were lowered into their final resting place alongside their ancestors, or maybe even their children, and Jonas lamented they had not known the couple well enough.

“What’s it all for?” Llew kept her voice low, the question just between them. “What did they die for?”

Jonas just shook his head. He understood that the Turhmos troops who’d killed the farmers either did so for a cause they believed in, or simply because that was what they had been told to do. He’d been the same. He’d believed in Quaver, believed Aenuks were evil, and if not evil then too great a danger to allow to exist in any great number, preferably zero. The fact that belief had fractured the minute he’d tested it left him hollow. His life had been dedicated to that lie right up until he’d met Llew. After, if he was honest. Really, it had taken Aris revealing the full truth before Jonas had been ready to let it all go.

Turhmos may have been right to fight for the lives of Aenuks, but not so they could live in their cages. Cages Merrid and Ard had worked to free them from.

He had denied Llew the opportunity to run from Brurun to fight for her freedom with a full-strength Jonas at her side. He’d believed that no matter how strong he was, he couldn’t stand up to an entire nation. And here he was, broken and weak, planning to stand up against two. He looked back at the shrouded bodies and acknowledged the cost. Too high. But Merrid and Ard had been prepared to die for the freedom of Aenuks. They’d known the risk when they built their bunker and with each Aenuk they helped out of Turhmos. Hisham, like Jonas himself, had been prepared to die for their entrenched beliefs. Jonas hadn’t been prepared to die for Aenuk liberation, not even Llew’s, but Hisham had.

What was it all for?

“Lies.” He ground out the word. “Lies planted by Aris that the world can’t afford for Aenuks to live free. Lies upheld by both Quaver and Turhmos; even believed in Brurun, and Aghacia, and maybe farther afield.” He met Llew’s gaze. “Lies that I believed for too long. Lies that you and me are gonna rip apart, or die tryin’.”

Llew’s eyes came alive, and she smiled. Then she pulled him into a hug. Only relying on the one crutch, Jonas brought his other arm up around her. Then Llew leaned back, framed his face with her hands and kissed him, pressing firmly, inviting him to respond deeply. He did.

Karlani’s eye-roll was practically audible as she murmured something about this being meant to be a funeral. Funny how those with the least hurt thought they knew how the heartbroken should behave, for that’s what this was. It hurt just as much to look on Hisham’s shrouded body as it had to see him shot. And Merrid and Ard had not deserved to hang.

After a while, they pulled back from each other, standing forehead to forehead for a few moments as they sought peace in their pain. And finally, they parted fully as Rowan clambered from the first hole and dropped into Hisham’s, whose remains were sparse and disconnected, and being buried so far from home, and yet, the Karan soldier who had greeted Merrid with such warmth on their return here would likely consider this right. He’d been raised as a ward of Quaver. Jonas believed Hisham’s mother had loved him, but he’d also never sought her out when their time had been less regimented by the army, while he’d blossomed here on this farm, eyes sparkling and a joyful conversation, even over a bowl of dishwater. This farm, so far from Taither, so central to Turhmos, was home. Not just to Hisham.

Llew kept pace with Jonas’s hobbled stride and they returned to the homestead in silence, only broken before they stepped up to the porch as Llew turned to Jonas, pulled him in to a tight hold, and sobbed into his shoulder, finally letting go. And he held her, cheek to her hair, and gave her every ounce of strength he had to give.