Part 70 (1/2)

Bloodstone Barbara Campbell 59780K 2022-07-22

”You've told the chief?”

”The whole village knows. Folk have been coming all night. Bringing supplies. Wis.h.i.+ng us well. Wis.h.i.+ng you well.”

He didn't trust himself to speak. As if sensing his weakness, his father added, ”Not everyone agreed with the council's decision.”

”And what about the tribe?” His voice was too tentative. He had to strengthen it. He was fighting for his family's survival. ”Sanok is failing. And Sali's too young-”

”Nemek's been filling Sanok's shoes for two moons. And Sali's older than your mam was when she became healer. The tribe will manage. So will we.”

He had only one argument left and he used it without hesitation. ”You'll never see Tinnean again. There won't be anyone to open the way to the First Forest.”

His father's breath caught. He let it out slowly. ”Aye. I'd forgotten that. But whether or not I go to the One Tree, I'll always carry him here.” He laid his palm on his chest. ”Those were his last words to me.”

Stubborn as a rock? G.o.ds, he was stubborn as a boulder and just as unmovable.

”Why are you doing this?”

His father went rigid with shock. ”You have to ask?”

”There are limits to love.”

”Are there? I haven't found them yet.”

”You've done enough. Suffered enough.”

”It's got nothing to do with suffering! You're my son.”

”I know!”

”Nay. You don't. You can't.” His father dragged his hands through his hair as he paced. ”My father tried to explain and I listened to the words and they all made sense. But I didn't understand. Not until Lisula carried you out of the birthing hut and put you into my arms. This red-faced, red-haired sc.r.a.p of flesh. I was scared to death I was going to drop you, me with my clumsy hands.”

He held them out, staring at them as if he'd never seen them before. ”That's when I began to understand what it meant to be a father. The love. The pride. The fear. That, most of all. What if something happens to him? If he should take sick? Or drown in the lake? Or fall out of a tree? Knowing I could never s.h.i.+eld you from every danger. Or unhappiness. Or just the pain of growing up and wanting to be a man while you're still little more than a child. To see you pulling away and knowing I had to let you, even though every step terrified me. And made me proud.”

It was too hard. He couldn't bear this.

”You and I . . . we know the best and the worst of each other. And the best of me is my love for my family. And maybe the worst is my stubbornness, my determination to hold on to all of you.”

”But you'll only lose us all, Fa. Can't you see that? Isn't it better to lose only me? If anything should happen to Callie or Faelia . . . to any of you . . . I couldn't live with myself.”

”Any more than we could live with ourselves if we let you walk away.”

He backed away, putting the fire pit between them. This was the final test and the hardest. He could not allow love to sway him from doing what was right. If he'd been stronger, he would have done it before. Now he had no choice.

”I'm sorry,” he whispered.

”It's all right. I know you're just trying to-”

His father broke off as he unsheathed his dagger.

”I love you, Fa. But I won't let you destroy everyone in the family just to protect me.”

”Son. Listen to me.”

”You know I'll do it.”

”Aye. But if you do . . . I don't think either of us will survive it.”

The pain in his father's voice nearly unmanned him. He tightened his grip on the dagger. ”Please, Fa. Let me go.”

For a long moment, his father stood there. Then, slowly, awkwardly, he knelt on the rushes.

”Nay.”

”I've gone down on my knees-willingly-only three times in my life.”

”Get up.”

”Once, to your mam, to beg her forgiveness for leaving her. Once, to the Trickster, to ask for his help in finding Tinnean. And again to the Trickster, to ask him to help me save you.”

”Don't.”

”Now I'm begging you. On my knees. Please, Keirith.”

”You're killing me!”

The dagger fell from his fingers. His hands came up to cover his face. He knew he must find the dagger. He must finish it now. He must be strong enough to do this. But his father's hands were grasping his shoulders, his father's arms were holding him, his father's voice was murmuring his name over and over. And G.o.ds forgive him, he could only cling to him, feeling the gentleness of the hands stroking his hair, the strength of the arms cradling him, the hoa.r.s.e, broken longing of the voice that spoke his name like a prayer.

He didn't know how long they remained locked together. In the end, he was the one who found the strength to let go. He swiped at his nose with the back of his hand. His father was more direct; he raised his tunic and blew his nose on the hem.

”It'll be dawn soon. Could you sleep, do you think?”

Keirith shook his head.

”Then we'll just sit together until . . . until it's time. Your mam's going on ahead-with Faelia and Callie. They'll leave before the ceremony.”

Relief washed over Keirith. He could manage if he didn't have to see his mam's stricken face.

”I invited Hircha to come with us. And she said yes. Well, what she really said was she'd promised to stay till the end, and clearly, it wasn't over yet. So. She's coming. You don't mind?”

”Nay.” His face grew warm under his father's scrutiny; at least with his darker skin, no one would notice when he blushed. ”We're not . . . we're just friends. And I know she can be difficult. But she'll be all right. You'll see.”

”Aye. Well.” His father shook himself as if beset by deerflies. ”Anyway, they'll all be waiting for us. After the ceremony. But I'll be with you. The whole time. Just keep your eyes on me.”

They spent the rest of the night talking about anything other than the upcoming ceremony. When the ram's horn sounded, their gazes locked. They rose together. His father hugged him hard. The ram's horn sounded again and his father's arms tightened, as if to s.h.i.+eld him from the sound and all it meant. Then he drew back, but kept his hands on his shoulders.

”It'll be hard, son. There's no point in denying that. But it'll be over quickly. And then we can leave. Together.”

Keirith swallowed hard and nodded.

Their kinfolk were already gathered. The Tree-Father blew the ram's horn a third time and handed it to Othak. No one spoke as they took their places in the circle, but all eyes watched him. He sought out Conn and found him standing beside Ennit. Both gave him a quick nod of encouragement. The Tree-Father looked as exhausted as the Grain-Mother. They stood on either side of the chief, the Grain-Mother with the sheaf of barley that symbolized her power, the Tree-Father with his blackthorn staff.