She found Neve curled in the same bed as Cameron, both of them asleep, his face bathed in sweat from a fever broken and hers pale as the pillows they shared. Thordin glanced up from the book in his lap and offered up the ghost of a smile.
“His fever broke about half an hour ago,” Thordin said quietly as he closed the book and stood up. “After I took over for Phelan. He said you’d be along before too long, so I thought that I would just wait.” He pulled the chair away from the bed so she’d have more room to work and lit another lamp so she had more light. “I’ll go get some cold water.”
“Thanks,” Jacqueline said as she began to check Cameron’s forehead and cheeks for additional signs of his fever breaking. She’d have to check his wound soon, but that meant waking Neve.
I’ll let her sleep a little while longer before I wake her. Cameron’s face seemed cooler, even through the sweat, and his sleep seemed easier.
“He’ll be sensitive to the light when he wakes up,” Thordin said as he returned with a small basin and a few rags. “That’s how it seems to go with these things.”
“How do you know?” Jacqueline asked as she dipped one of the rags into the water and wrung it out. She sponged Cameron’s face and neck gently, though her eyes were on Thordin. “How do you know any of them?” Who are you?
She’d never had time to ask. She wasn’t sure anyone had. It didn’t matter. He’s on our side, but someday it might—and I want to know.
Lord help me, I want to know. I’m tired of being the sheltered one left in the dark. I can handle this. I’ve been handling this. It’s time I start asking the questions that need asking and quit waiting for the others to ask the questions for me.
After a moment’s hesitation, Thordin smiled. “Does it matter?”
“Not yet, but it might,” Jacqueline said quietly. “I know how you got here, but…who are you? Who are you, really? You’re not…you’re not friends with Cameron—not like you are with Neve and Phelan. You know them.”
After a moment’s hesitation, Thordin smiled wryly and drew up the chair next to the bed, holding the bowl for her. “I’ve ridden out on a hunt with Neve’s brothers and Phelan in the past. That was a very long time ago.”
“Then you’re like them. From someplace beyond imagining.” Jacqueline stared at him for a long moment, the rag cool and wet in her hand, her fingers tightening. He had a strong jaw, high cheekbones. His eyes were bright and deep blue, even if they were deep-set in his face. A faint blonde stubble peppered his jaw, interspersed with darker, pale brown hairs. Like a Norwegian or Swedish hockey player or something. That’s what he reminds me of. Like the men you see walking into the locker room in a suit and then walking out again in their jerseys and pads ready to throw each other into some boards. Her throat tightened. Thordin. That—oh sweet Jesus. “Thordin. You—”
“Once upon a time,” he said softly with a rueful smile. “Not anymore. That life is lost to me now.”
“Exile?” she asked, her voice a bare whisper.
He shook his head. “Death.”
“Gods can’t die,” she said, though the words tasted like ash on her tongue, as if she somehow knew better.
Thordin gave her a sad smile. “You know that we can.”
She swallowed hard and nodded. “You’re right. I do.” She tore her eyes away and resumed tending to Cameron. “How did it happen?”
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Thordin wince. “You don’t actually want to know the answer to that question, do you?”
Her gaze snapped back to his, her brows knitting. “Why wouldn’t I?” Anger welled up from somewhere deep inside.
Why the hell does everyone try to shelter me? I can handle it. However it happened, I can handle it—I’ve got to. If I can’t, how the hell am I going to survive this new world that we’re living in?
His expression turned to stone, eyes flinty. “Followers of Jehovah killed me, lass,” he said, his voice quiet, raspy. “A saint of your church.”
Jacqueline’s stomach dropped straight through the floor. “What?”
Thordin closed his eyes and told her everything.
He told her how he had been on a hunt and realized men were giving chase, how they’d set their dogs on him even as far from where he hunted in the Black Forest, his tree was hacked down in front of three dozen villagers to whom he’d sworn his protection. He told her how the men had shot him full of arrows once their dogs had dragged him down, how he’d had belly slashed, his entrails spilled, his heart stabbed clean through. Tears leaked from beneath closed lids as he spoke, his hands shaking around the bowl. He told her of his dying thoughts—not of anger, but of worry for the people whom he would no longer be able to watch over, to protect. He wondered at the men who could do what they did and yet purport to be men of mercy, men of peace—men of Christ.
Jacqueline could understand why he’d wondered, since she was starting to share the same sick curiousity. Her throat closed up and she felt nauseous as she put her hands over his. “Thordin, I—”
“Save your apologies,” he whispered, eyes blinking open. His voice was ragged, but remarkably steady. “It was not you who did this to me, and the followers of the Christus did do right by my people in the end, for better or worse.”
“It was still wrong,” she whispered, hands tightening. “It was still wrong.”
“That’s why the truth has never been spoken,” he said quietly. “And that’s why it should stay that way.” He slowly lifted his hand, the rough flesh of his thumb brushing against her cheek.
“If you died like that,” Jacqueline asked in a whisper, “then how are you here now?”
“Miracles happen,” he said with a wry smile. “The gods—and the powers that spawned them—work in mysterious ways.”
The words sent shivers down her spine. She knew they were true.
The certainty that those words were true scared her right down to her very core.
“What power could be greater than all the gods and monsters out there?” she breathed.
A wry smile twisted Thordin’s lips. “Pray we never find out.”
“Believe me, I will.” Her hand covered his for a moment before she swallowed and looked away.
“I should let you get back to work,” Thordin said.
“You don’t have to go,” Jacqueline said.
He flushed a little as he stood and set the bowl down where he’d been sitting. “I’m afraid that I do. Call if you need something. I’ve a need to find Phelan.”
She watched him walk away, chewing on her lower lip. Another mystery, I guess. Maybe I shouldn’t ask question after all.
I just end up more curious in the end.
With a sigh, she tried to push all thoughts of Thordin from her mind and got back to work.
She found Neve cured in the same bed as Cameron (cured->curled)
True words. Ask not questions the answers of which may cause more pain than the unknowing. But if you must ask, be sure you are ready for the pain.
Thanks for the catch – fixed now.
This little bit between Thordin and Jac was kind of unexpected, but I kind of like it.