salty flow hurt, but with a good hurt.
It was too much, too fast. Soon there were no tears left. Dry-eyed, the two neighbors settled back onto their own feet and looked at each other. Orion felt like he would never cry again. There was no more worry, no more fear. Everything of his had been taken, ripped away from him, and there was nothing left.
“Are you okay?”
He nodded.
“We buried your mother as best we could. We wanted to wait for you, but that would not be right.” Her voice broke. “If only I knew the spices to keep her body well, you might have seen her one last time.” She cried for another minute.
His right hand stroked her back.
“Where did you bury your father?”
“The mountain will bury him,” he said, with finality. Then he jerked back from her. “How did you know?”
She jumped, frightened. “Ramona told me. Oh, bother, I don't know if I'll get it right. It's just...”
“How did she die? How did she know?” Orion felt anger at the girl rise in him.
“She died when he did. At least that's what I think she meant.”
“What? Why?”
“Please, sit down. And be patient, I don't understand it myself. And,” she looked around, “perhaps inside.”
Still annoyed Orion suffered himself to be led away from the half-dozen villagers that had gathered in the past few minutes. He hadn't even noticed them until Enda mentioned it. They walked to the smithy and went around the back, leaving Kerdae, from the sounds of things, fiddling with something in the forge. The sound calmed Orion, combined with Enda's warm hand gently pulling him along.
Her soft hand reminded him of his mother: how he hated being limited to her reach when he was a young child! He longed for freedom, to run and play where he would, and rued the wave that called him back to her side.
They sat at the table. Orion flashed back to when he was here not six weeks ago: he thought they had lost everything then. How wrong he had been. Then he had lost nothing.
“I'm sure I'll forget some things. Let me speak as I remember, though, then together we'll try to make sense of it, okay?”
He nodded.
“I stayed with your mother until they, I mean, you, um they and you left. That night when father came for me she insisted we eat there. The next day she came to visit us and helped me catch up with cleaning.” The words continued on. Orion stifled his impatience, remembering she was one of his few friends left. He watched her fingers play among themselves, her jaw ripple with the words, and her eyes, welling over in pity, punctuate.
“Then after that, that would be two? No, three days ago, she had a sharp pain. At least that's what it looked like though I saw no wound.
“She tried hard to speak. No words came at first. Then I found out your father had,” Enda gulped, “died. She spoke as if to him, not to me. As if she saw him.”
Orion sat there, hardly breathing. “You mean there was no wound? No accident, no fall, no fever?”
“Nothing.”
“Oh.”
“Then it seemed as if her vision faded. She reached out after him then fell against me. She then said your name. 'Orion, Orion! Tell Orion.'”
“Tell me what?”
Enda shut her eyes. “Take. Ring. Queen. Oh bother, the last one was strange. A sparrow. That's it, a sparrow. Take ring queen a sparrow.”
Orion screwed up his face in thought.
“You don't know what it means?” she asked.
Orion was about to answer when the trampling of hooves caught his here. “They're here,” he whispered fiercely.
“Who?” At the look in her face a split second later Orion knew he didn't need to answer. “Why? We're safe here.”
“We need to hide. Leave.” He pushed her away as he heard footsteps hurrying up to the door. They left Kerdae to his own confusion and fled into the woods.
“One more thing, Enda. Did my mother have a ring on her hand when you buried her?”
“No, why?”
His heart sank. “Was there a visitor in Darach?”
“No.”
“And you
It was too much, too fast. Soon there were no tears left. Dry-eyed, the two neighbors settled back onto their own feet and looked at each other. Orion felt like he would never cry again. There was no more worry, no more fear. Everything of his had been taken, ripped away from him, and there was nothing left.
“Are you okay?”
He nodded.
“We buried your mother as best we could. We wanted to wait for you, but that would not be right.” Her voice broke. “If only I knew the spices to keep her body well, you might have seen her one last time.” She cried for another minute.
His right hand stroked her back.
“Where did you bury your father?”
“The mountain will bury him,” he said, with finality. Then he jerked back from her. “How did you know?”
She jumped, frightened. “Ramona told me. Oh, bother, I don't know if I'll get it right. It's just...”
“How did she die? How did she know?” Orion felt anger at the girl rise in him.
“She died when he did. At least that's what I think she meant.”
“What? Why?”
“Please, sit down. And be patient, I don't understand it myself. And,” she looked around, “perhaps inside.”
Still annoyed Orion suffered himself to be led away from the half-dozen villagers that had gathered in the past few minutes. He hadn't even noticed them until Enda mentioned it. They walked to the smithy and went around the back, leaving Kerdae, from the sounds of things, fiddling with something in the forge. The sound calmed Orion, combined with Enda's warm hand gently pulling him along.
Her soft hand reminded him of his mother: how he hated being limited to her reach when he was a young child! He longed for freedom, to run and play where he would, and rued the wave that called him back to her side.
They sat at the table. Orion flashed back to when he was here not six weeks ago: he thought they had lost everything then. How wrong he had been. Then he had lost nothing.
“I'm sure I'll forget some things. Let me speak as I remember, though, then together we'll try to make sense of it, okay?”
He nodded.
“I stayed with your mother until they, I mean, you, um they and you left. That night when father came for me she insisted we eat there. The next day she came to visit us and helped me catch up with cleaning.” The words continued on. Orion stifled his impatience, remembering she was one of his few friends left. He watched her fingers play among themselves, her jaw ripple with the words, and her eyes, welling over in pity, punctuate.
“Then after that, that would be two? No, three days ago, she had a sharp pain. At least that's what it looked like though I saw no wound.
“She tried hard to speak. No words came at first. Then I found out your father had,” Enda gulped, “died. She spoke as if to him, not to me. As if she saw him.”
Orion sat there, hardly breathing. “You mean there was no wound? No accident, no fall, no fever?”
“Nothing.”
“Oh.”
“Then it seemed as if her vision faded. She reached out after him then fell against me. She then said your name. 'Orion, Orion! Tell Orion.'”
“Tell me what?”
Enda shut her eyes. “Take. Ring. Queen. Oh bother, the last one was strange. A sparrow. That's it, a sparrow. Take ring queen a sparrow.”
Orion screwed up his face in thought.
“You don't know what it means?” she asked.
Orion was about to answer when the trampling of hooves caught his here. “They're here,” he whispered fiercely.
“Who?” At the look in her face a split second later Orion knew he didn't need to answer. “Why? We're safe here.”
“We need to hide. Leave.” He pushed her away as he heard footsteps hurrying up to the door. They left Kerdae to his own confusion and fled into the woods.
“One more thing, Enda. Did my mother have a ring on her hand when you buried her?”
“No, why?”
His heart sank. “Was there a visitor in Darach?”
“No.”
“And you
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