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Niarok (part 1)

Niarok stood before the fire, cloak wrapped tightly around his shoulders and his hand stretched over the flames.

It was somehow, against all odds, getting colder.

That was not good.

Qatar was glaring straight into the fire, Lorcan was standing off to the side, within reach of the flames.

Leytera and Quin were perched on a rock behind Qatar, and Misu and Basil had moved a little closer to the fire, although Basil looked extremely uncomfortable near all these people who must have been contagious.

Niarok smirked slightly.

He would develop the emotional immunity to stand it sooner or later.

Yila had roused from her sleep when Chet entered, and she was drinking heavily from her canteen, snuggling as close to the fire as she could without getting burnt to a crisp.

Niarok didn’t blame her.

Ayden still spoke with Chet, rubbing the six-legged beast’s forehead gently. It was the most relaxed Niarok had ever seen him, and he felt relief flow within his chest. The animal did more for Ayden than Niarok ever could.

A moment later, Chet walked towards the fire, his eyes displaying a great deal of distrust and uncertainty about the group of young warriors surrounding the flames.

Ayden’s eyes were suddenly focused on some distant point, fear distinct on his white face. Niarok’s brow furrowed. What had prompted that?

Ayden was trembling, leaning against the wall like he was going to collapse at any moment. His breathing had sped up, and Niarok saw the possibility of a panic attack coming on.

He started to step towards Ayden, then thought better of it for a moment, not wanting to draw any extra attention to the man who would probably die of embarrassment and shame the second he came back to reality.

Then he saw how everyone was already staring, and he bounded around the fire, catching Ayden by the arm just as he almost fell down.

“Ayden, are you alright?” he asked, trying hard to keep his own faculties together.

His father lying dead in a pool of blood.
The assassin standing a few feet away, his eyes trained desperately on Niarok.
Yila’s mad charge, how she’d attacked him.
There had been two bodies.
Niarok hadn’t been able to save him, and he collapsed to the ground, trembling harder than he ever had before. It had happened over and over and-

Niarok shook the memory away. There was nothing he could do about that now. Ayden didn’t need Niarok to fall apart in front of him while he himself was falling apart.

Ayden shook Niarok’s hand off, stumbling away from him. He pressed his back against the wall hard, trembling as his eyes came back into focus.

He glanced around frantically, his eyes lighting on Niarok for a moment before he seemed to crawl into a hole of shame.

Everyone was staring.

Niarok wanted to scream at them.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Ayden whimpered, pulling deep into his cloak, trying to hide from all the stares.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know– Sometimes that happens, I–” Ayden’s voice cracked and broke off, and he hurried back into the shadows of the back of the cave.

Peoples’ eyes followed him.

Niarok glared at them.

“Hey!” he snapped. “Give him space.”

Many of the people went back to staring at the fire, too cold to care much that Ayden had had a panic attack and usually patient Niarok had just yelled at them.

But Yila stared at him in surprise, and Niarok could tell she was working up a stream of words to shout at him.

He walked back around the fire and sat down next to her.

“Just be quiet about it,” he said.

Yila rolled her eyes and elbowed him, her eyes colder than they usually were.

Niarok looked at her, waiting.

She drew in a deep breath like she was going to say something, but then stopped, her breath turning shaky.

Tears gathered at the corners of her eyes, and Niarok could see her thoughts scurrying back to the moment that had ruined her.

She scooted closer to Niarok, silently asking for a hug because she was too embarrassed to admit her weakness aloud. He pulled her trembling body close.

I don’t think I can deal with two flashbacks in a row.

But he didn’t care.

“He killed our father,” she whispered, her voice shaking painfully.

She buried her head on his shoulder, and Niarok pulled her closer, wishing above all that he could convince her it hadn’t been her fault.

“And I killed him,” she added quietly.

Niarok couldn’t help the shock that lifted the hair on the back of his neck.

That was the first time – ever – that he had heard Yila admit remorse to killing someone. He’d known it was in there, somewhere deep in the middle of her broken heart, but she’d never given it voice.

He didn’t know what to say. For the first time, he didn’t know how to comfort his sister.

But she seemed to understand and stayed silent, understanding that her brother was doing the best he possibly could.

A few moments later she pulled away from him, wiped her eyes, and curled up in her blanket.

“Thank you,” she whispered, too quietly for anyone but Niarok to hear.

He nodded and stared silently into the flames, lost in memories. They all led back to the man who had killed his father. He looked so much like Ayden, but there was one difference.

Ayden’s eyes, though muddy and often troubled, still carried a spark of life.

The assassin’s eyes had been deader than the darkest night in the deadlands.

And he had killed without remorse, and died without remorse.

Bitter anger roiled in Niarok’s heart, but he shoved it away.

I’ve forgiven him. He’s dead. You couldn’t get revenge even if you tried.

The anger dissipated, but Niarok knew it would be back.

It always came back.

 

 

 

Someone touched my shoulder, held on to my arm. The touch sent a wave of pain over me, mingling with the fear.

“Aydin, are you alright?”

I didn’t recognize the voice, didn’t register it. I shook him off roughly and pulled away, pressing my back against a wall as though it would somehow protect me.

Everything was slowly pulling back into focus. It was hard to breathe. Was it the cold? It was terribly cold, the wind was blasting into my face.

The shadows had vanished, everything slowly focused again. Niarok was standing by me, a good distance away. I must have shaken him off earlier.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” I said, pulling deeper into my cloak as though I could disappear. They were staring at me, they’d all seen me suddenly panic for no discernable reason. Shame washed over me, wrapped around me until nothing else seemed to exist.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know– Sometimes that happens, I–” I stammered, trying to explain it, trying to excuse it somehow. There was no excusing it, I’d spun out of control just because I’d smelled strong alcohol. It was ridiculous.