One day morphed into another. Rain fell incessantly over the village, sometimes turning to sleet or even to snow for short periods of time. The patter of raindrops on the wooden roof had become a lullaby to Eagle, a constant companion to send him to sleep or bring him back to wakefulness. Was that not, in many ways, fitting? He, the child sold to the Rain Goddesses before he was even born, should know of no other tune.
“The rain and I, we have a special relationship,” Eagle admitted to Carys in one of those moments when he let his guard down.
Carys could create many such moments. Whether deliberately or without realising it, Eagle could never tell. She was a lonely soul. Eagle had always felt that. He remembered seeing it the first time when he spotted her ready to be sacrificed to the cursed boar. She had been under his spell and Eagle heard villagers say no one could have broken that spell (which increased their respect for Eagle, since he had shown himself immune). But he knew a thing or two about magic. It sensed those without a will and latched onto them. The spell was more potent then. Perhaps that was why Light-tenders were unaffected by spells. With their gifts usually came a stubborn will to stay alive. Nothing had yet broken that will.
But Carys had not possessed such a will, not that day when she found herself the last of her family, and the only answer to her grief was some reckless and hopeless attempt at revenge. In many ways, it was a blessing that she had to take care of Eagle afterwards. It gave her a purpose. Carys was one of those people who always needed a purpose in order to live. Perhaps that was why she was so drawn to Eagle in the first place. Like called to like, after all.
The days got shorter. The nights were darker. By midwinter, when the snow lay thick on the roofs of the village, Eagle was strong enough to carry out a few chores here and there – under Carys’ strict supervision, of course. Midwinter’s Eve finally came. Eagle was lighting the fire in the hearth. Carys was rummaging through one of her drawers, looking for something. She finally emerged victorious with a small, half-burned candle.
“For tonight,” she explained, noticing his puzzled glance. “All houses must have candles in the window on Midwinter’s night. For good luck.”
Eagle nodded. He had been wondering if the people of the Gloom Hills celebrated Midwinter’s Night. To him, they did not look like they had much cause for celebrating.
“I know this isn’t the Bountiful Gardens,” Carys said then, in response to his thoughts. “I heard that over there they celebrate for seven days and eat and drink without stopping. Is that true?”
Eagle raised his eyebrows. Distance often transformed even the most commonplace events into wild, exaggerated tales. It was a fact he was starting to become quite familiar with.
“Only for one night, I fear,” he answered. “Although they do celebrate magnificently.”
Immediately, he knew he had said the wrong thing. Carys was scowling. She had a strong dislike for those living in the Bountiful Garden. Not because they had more than she did, but simply because they were not her people. There was more than one way to turn other regions into “the World Without”. Eagle was beginning to learn that, too.
“It will be quite a poor show here,” Carys went on. “Compared to the Bountiful Gardens, I mean.”
This time, he was more careful. He waved Carys’ words aside.
“I was never one for luxury. My own village was not that wealthy, either. I am more used to the rough life, to be honest.”
The Midwinter celebration did not amount to much, that was true. In fact, it was not really a celebration to begin with. It certainly would not have been seen as one by the standards of those from the Bountiful Gardens. Eagle and Carys spent the night watching the small, flickering candle flame, aware that in every house, families sat gathered around their own candles, taking care they were not extinguished before daybreak.
There were few tales and no songs. It was more a time of soul-searching than of merriment. Still, Eagle would look back fondly at that night. In later years, it would become one of the memories held closest to his heart – cherished almost possessively and never shared with anyone. There was nothing to share anyway – nothing much had taken place. He and Carys sat silent at the table, a silence that was neither tense nor uncomfortable. People could be bonded by the silences they shared – much more than by the words they exchanged. Words could be calculated and thought-out – at times, they could be downright dishonest. But silences – there was a certain intimacy in staying silent with someone and not feeling the need to say anything.
It was then, on that cold and windy Midwinter’s Night that Eagle realised something he had known ever since he had woken up after the encounter with the wild boar. He loved Carys of the Gloom-Hills – probably more than he should.
***
At first, the feeling did not bother Eagle much. He did not intend to do anything about it, just store it in his memory, the way he was used to storing all events precious to him. But this was different. This was not something involving only him. He knew Carys shared his feelings. Yet they did not speak about it. They acted as if they were unaware of how things stood until almost a month after Midwinter’s Night.
Winter held the land completely in sway. The snow often blocked the entrances to the huts, making moving about difficult. Flowers of frost clung to the windows. Beyond the village, the world was silent – like a land of the dead.
Eagle had regained most of his strength. He often went to hunt or gather firewood, although never alone. There were always plenty of villagers to help the man who had slain the cursed boar. One evening, he returned to Carys’ hut with his usual pile of firewood. Carys received him with bright eyes and an impulsive hug.
The embrace warmed him more than the prospect of a new fire. Still, it also saddened him. He wondered what it would be like to have something like this all the time – not just while he was waiting for winter to pass and his journey to be resumed – but for all the days of his life. To have a home to return to and someone to be glad of his coming. The image brought tears to his eyes.
“There is no reason why you couldn’t stay here for good,” Carys told him that evening.
Eagle looked at her sharply. They were both sitting at the table, enjoying their meagre dinner, watching the fire burn in the hearth. He had not mentioned his troubled thoughts after Carys had hugged him, but she had apparently read his mind quite easily.
“You could stay,” she insisted. “I would like to have you here. We all would. You would make a fine addition to our village. We never tell outsiders that – but, truth be told, you were never an outsider, not with the way you helped us. And I have already taken you in gladly. Do you think I am going to turn you away once spring is upon us?”
Eagle shook his head. He avoided looking directly at her.
“I suppose I did think of staying,” he admitted, after a brief moment of silence.
“Well, why shouldn’t you?” Carys urged him reasonably.
And Eagle realised with a jolt there was no reason why he should leave. He was an exile. He could not go back. The road to his home was barred to him under pain of death. He could only go forward – until he died somewhere in the vast wilderness – or until he ran out of world. Or maybe… just maybe, he could stop somewhere. He could stop here. He could build a life for himself in that small village of the Gloom-hills, with Carys at his side.
A part of him was terrified by the thought. He was a Light-tender. He was meant to roam the vast emptiness. He could not settle down and build himself a family. He had no right to it. He was not like other men. But, he reasoned with himself, the priests of the Gods he was supposed to obey had cast him out. He had faced up to them, and when it was clear he could no longer be used, they promptly stripped him of his name and rank. So, what did he owe the Gods and his mission, in the end? He was in a place beyond their reach. Surely they no longer had a say in how he lived out the rest of his days. As far as he knew, he now had the right to stop. He had the right to build the family he had been denied in the desert.
He looked at Carys. She was not saying anything, but she was eyeing him with a half-hopeful glint in her eyes. She needed this as much as Eagle, he realised. Maybe more, because while Eagle, if he left, would still have the vast roads, she would have nothing but an empty house in a village she could not leave.
“There is still time to decide until the spring,” he said at length. “But I might very well decide to stay.”
Carys looked away. She begrudged him his lack of commitment. But he could hear that voice in his head, telling him such a life was not for him. Telling him he might do more harm than good by settling down.
8.Days passed. The nights got shorter. The cold in the air was less biting. Only the snow remained. The villagers did not tire of complaining about it. Save for Carys. She did not once mention the unbearable length of that winter, nor did she voice a desire to see it end.
Eagle was still doubtful about remaining with her. This was why he promised to give her his decision in the spring. By then he would no longer have to stay. In spring, it would be easier to choose the road. So Carys did the only thing she could. She pretended spring would never come again. She acted as if the cold of winter and the snow were all she and Eagle would know from then on. And Eagle played along.
Those cold winter days were the happiest for him. He had never been more content – not even in the Bountiful Gardens. His admiration for the world at large surpassed even what he had sensed in the first months of his service to the Sun Gods. He loved the village with its tumbled down roofs and broken windows. He loved the inhabitants, sullen and distant as they were. And, more than anything, he loved Carys.
It was different from what he had felt for Lusa all those years back. He had been young then and not fully able to make sense of his emotions. It was better this way. He thought love should come with maturity and wisdom – otherwise it might make one do rash things that had a devastating impact not only on him, but on those around him as well.
“I used to be wary of love,” he confessed to Carys one day as they stood watching the snowflakes falling sedately on the already silver ground.
Carys turned thoughtful eyes on him. There was no trace of surprise on her face.
“Why?” she asked softly.
Eagle hesitated. He did not know why he thought he owed Carys the story. But he knew deep inside that she was the one he wanted to know the whole truth.
“A long time ago my father made an offering to our Gods. So that my mother would agree to marry him.”
“What did he offer in return?” Carys wanted to know.
“Me,” Eagle said simply.
He did not elaborate and Carys did not ask for more. It was the first and only time he would talk about Rashed’s confession. In later years, there would be friends he would learn to trust with his life. But that bit – the event that, in his mind, had started him on his path – he gave only to Carys. It was the only gift he had for her.
They never mentioned it again. But, since Eagle’s almost careless confession, he began to notice a change in Carys. There was a glimmer of sadness in her dark eyes now. It was not for her past, but for her future. She was steeling herself for a new loss. She was preparing for spring and what it would take from her.
The end of winter came. The trees had their first buds – small and hesitant, wary of future frost. But the villagers agreed this was the sign the season of rebirth was upon them – as much as they could have rebirth in the Gloom-hills. A year ago, in a much fairer spring, Eagle had said farewell to Kira and to Apple Orchard Village and had gone on the next stage of his journey. But not now. The buds gave way to small leaves and tentative flowers, and still he did not go. He never once mentioned staying there permanently, though.
In the end, it was Carys who made the first move. One evening, as the two were feeding the cows, she looked up suddenly. Her sharp eyes bore into Eagle’s.
“Are you going to leave, or will you stay?”
Eagle flinched. The harshness of her tone surprised him. She often used it, for she was not one to hide her exasperation. However, she had never directed it at him.
“You think this is better,” she went on. “I can see it in your face. But if you are indeed leaving, nothing is going to make that easier for me. Postponing the inevitable does not help. It certainly does not help to live every day in uncertainty, wondering if and when you will go.”
Eagle bit his lips.
“I thought you wanted me to stay.”
Carys stamped her foot. Her eyes were blazing.
“Of course I want you to stay. But I want you to stay for good. I do not want you to postpone your departure, thinking that the more time I spend with you, the easier it will be to let you go. It does not work that way, Eagle.”
Eagle lowered his eyes.
“You do not know what you are asking, Carys.”
Carys’ face did not soften.
“No,” she conceded. “I do not. I cannot understand. I am offering you the chance of a home –of a family. Not many people are offered that. Plenty lose it and would give anything to have it back. They would give anything to be in your place right now. And yet, here you are…”
Yes, there he was. For the first time, he tried to see things from her perspective. For her, who had lost everything and would have gone to any lengths to get her family back, his actions were ungrateful. If he had a chance at a family – if he was being offered a cure for his loneliness – why did he not take it right away? Why did he waver? Why did he insist on keeping the empty road as an option instead of dismissing it completely from his mind?
“What would you have me do?” he asked, even though he feared he already knew.
Carys looked straight at him. Her eyes were shadowed. There was a wall now between the two of them. In her mind, Eagle was already lost to her.
“What would you have me do?” he repeated.
“I want you to give me a straight answer,” Carys finally said. “By tomorrow morning I want to know if you want to stay or not. But if you do wish to go – don’t linger. If I cannot keep you here forever, there is no point in keeping you at all.”
She walked away, leaving him dumbfounded. He longed to shout after her, to call her back. He wished to tell her he was staying. But he could not. And he knew why.
The next morning, when Eagle got up and started packing, Carys was not surprised. She had food prepared for him and warm clothes she had sewn during the winter months.
“Come with me,” Eagle said suddenly.
Carys grew rigid. She stared at him, wide-eyed.
“What did you say?” she asked, trembling.
“Come with me. We can walk the lonely roads together and they will be less lonely. We can see the world, you and I. We can see the City of White Marble. Wouldn’t you like that?”
“No,” Carys said flatly, to his surprise. “No, I would not like to see the City of White Marble. It is a legend to us, Eagle. I have no desire to touch legends. I tried that once – you remember? Why would I want to do it again?”
“But this village,” Eagle began, pointing to the tumbled-down huts. “What can it offer you if you stay?”
Carys drew a step back. She flinched at the words, as if Eagle had slapped her.
“What can it offer me?” she repeated hoarsely. “It is my home. It’s where I was born. My own place in the world. You left your home – of your own free will or out of obligation, it does not matter. But do not force someone else to do the same, as if you could not understand what it meant to them.
To that, Eagle had no answer. He might have buried everything deep, but he could still remember his own feelings when he left Red-stones village with the tribute caravan. Beneath the excitement of his position, there had also been the wish that he had not been a Light-tender. That he could remain in the place of his birth instead of being uprooted like that. He had forgotten the feeling – in an attempt to protect himself from more sorrow –, but that did not mean he had the right to make others forget as well. Carys was right. He was starting to feel ashamed for what he had asked her. He lowered his eyes.
“I am sorry,” he mumbled. “I had no right…”
Carys’ features softened. She shook her head.
“What I liked most about you is that you always spoke your mind,” she told him. “I would not have wanted you to stop at the end.”
She took a step towards him.
“It was a good winter,” she said earnestly.
Eagle nodded.
“It was,” he agreed readily.
She stepped away from him, looking him up and down. A faint smile was playing on her lips.
“Be well, Eagle,” she said. “Perhaps I will hear from you again. After all, you are one who might become a legend yourself one day.”
There was nothing more to be said between them. With a curt word, Eagle turned and walked away. He did not look back. His eyes were forward on the wide road that would once again be his constant companion. He did not dare to admit it – not even to himself – how much he had missed it.
As for Carys, she remained staring at the empty road long after Eagle was gone. She stood there straight, her head held high, like a young tree against a strong wind. Eagle’s presence was already becoming little more than a dream.
Copyright Simina Lungu 2022
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