Part 24 (2/2)

”You're so very conscious of time, and yet you would waste it with vengeance?” she said. ”How can you expect me to wait for you, knowing what it is that I await you for?”

His face grew pale with anger. He felt the threat of her words like a hot sting of betrayal. ”Am I to understand, then, that you would cast me aside if I should make an attempt?” She looked at him with an expression more painful to see than the bitterest of tears. He cried brutally, ”Why should you care if the world is short one less black-hearted b.a.s.t.a.r.d!” Even in its anger his voice was pleading for understanding.

”I care what it will do to you.” Lightly she touched his averted face. He stared out into the night, shaking his head with angry refusal. ”I fear you will come away changed. Please don't go.” Her light touch seemed to be pleading with him.

”You know I will.”

”What of those words you spoke to me?” she said with a significance meant for him alone. ”Shall I not hear them again?” She took his hand and pressed it to her lips, then to her face, holding it there. ”It is too cruel a fate to have finally found you, only to have you thus pa.s.s from me.”

He stroked her cheek with his thumb. ”Remain true to me-wait for me-and we needn't part. This will only pose a temporary separation,” he said. His hope beat up again. She disengaged from his hand and shook her head, mute with misery. He bowed his face in his hands for a few moments, then suddenly looked up. ”You don't understand what you're asking!” There was so much pain and frustration in his voice, it was harder to hear than the most piteous pleading. ”You don't know what it is to watch the one nearest your heart, sick and dying in frailty and the crippling feeling of helplessness, a sense of futility that dominates as a dark weight that will not lift.

”In this despair I watched her shrinking frame which seemed by inches to dissolve and vanish in death. I watched this process of slow dying without power to stop it. It was as if I was dying with her, inside myself. Toward the very end she would partake of food so little, I would beg and plead with her. But her body, if not she, would reject it-the human form, when so frail, loses its ability to accept sustenance, even if the will to live is there.

”I knew she would die, and with that reality comes hopelessness, made all the more keen knowing her unbroken will was strong, not ready to die, while her wounded body, giving way, submitted her to the fearful, empty s.p.a.ce of inevitability, imprisoned in this horrible inescapable fate which was killing her.” Holding back the burning tears he continued. ”Before the time of death even came, she was only half conscious; her eyes had no vision within them. The darkness of death was between her and the light of life. I could not reach her; she was alone, and she was afraid.

”We all die alone, I know, but not like that-not how she suffered. It was the cruelest thing I have had to endure. And this he did.” Deacon clenched his teeth. ”Do you have any notion, even in the slightest degree, what it is to have this depth of anguish inflicted by the very person who should have been the one to s.h.i.+eld her from injury and evil?”

Magenta, overcome by his anguish, was voiceless. It was a cruel pain to see him so hurting, so helplessly desperate, and she could do nothing. There was something heart-rendering about his mouth as he spoke. ”He should have protected her! He shouldn't have let her die-” He could not command his voice and gave up. The situation was so flooded and clouded with emotion, Magenta did not yet come to understand that when he spoke the last, it was not of his father, but of another whom he felt had betrayed her.

Soon he recollected himself and said in a much lower voice, ”I swore to her, not in spoken words, but in all my thoughts, that I would avenge her. I would be a traitor to myself if I did not fulfil that promise.” When she hesitated, a fearful doubt coming into her face, he pursued earnestly, ”Would you not have me avenge my own mother's death? Would you deny me of that-deny her?”

Magenta weakened before his solemnities and said, defeated, ”I have no answer to surpa.s.s yours.”

Clutching her, he said, ”Please try to understand.”

”What is it you wish me to say?”

He could see the fear of uncertainty in her face and became desperate in his heart. ”Say you'll wait for my return, that you'll not despise me for what must be done, that we are as we have been, that you won't turn from me, that you love me. Promise it will be as I have said-you must promise me this.” His entreaties were poured forth with controlled effort, but still with frantic hands he clung to her. When she did not respond as he so desperately wished, he released her angrily and asked, ”What should prevent you? You said you had resolved to be mine.”

”You will come away forever changed,” she said with a calm sadness. ”One soul cannot wound another and not leave a fixed mark.”

”He has already left a fixed mark! You know not the chill of such a betrayal, and they let it happen, they let her die.” There was so much hate in those muttered words, it appeared a shadow deepened on his countenance and made it black. ”I will see them all suffer. After their deception I believe I shall be justified in going to all lengths.”

His words fell upon her dark and heavy. ”What do you mean?” she asked, confused as to whom he now spoke of. ”What is it that you mean by that?”

With a strength of which he was unconscious, he suddenly gripped her shoulders. ”Why are you not listening to the things I'm telling you!” he cried with singular distress. He could hear the coa.r.s.e ugliness of strained emotion in his own voice but somehow could not contain himself. ”Did I not say they let her die! More than that, they deceived me into leaving her so they might cast away her mortal burden, which to them was a mere stain on the white-cold fabric of their immortal perfection!” Scarcely conscious of his actions, he tightened his grip. He could hardly find sufficient vent in words. ”Do you listen to me!” he demanded severely. He seemed to be breaking apart before her eyes, pa.s.sionate in his need for her to understand.

Magenta winced, confronted by the strength of his suffering. Her heart seemed unable to beat. ”I am listening,” she said, barely audibly, with a softness and sincerity that was more effective than anger. He clutched her round behind the neck and pressed his face to hers. His heart beat with increasing violence.

”Don't turn against me, Magenta.” Almost he pleaded, but there was something distinctly cold and reproachful in the sound of his voice. ”I still need you. I cannot bear the misery and hopeless solitude of this world without you. Do not withdraw your love from me. If you could only feel what I have felt you would understand ...” In utter desperation he said, ”Let me give you my thoughts.” She stiffened against him, and he pleaded softly, ”Please don't be afraid,” pus.h.i.+ng his restless face into hers, his mouth hot against her cheek. He ignored her faintly uttered refusal and clenched her tightly to himself.

Instantly a look of fear and anguish seized her; into her mind entered thoughts and feelings that seared her consciousness like fire. She cringed away from him, turning aside her face. She wanted to hide from him. Helpless in his grasp, she shrank from the memories that crowded upon her, so full of misery and confusion, tortured with such hatred, she could see only darkness.

The black mists and clouds that had cast shadows on his spirit, the utter confusion which blackened him, blinded her. He was like living darkness, covering her, taking her breath. With excessive force he transferred to her the same dark flame that possessed his blood. She could not feel him, only rage, pa.s.sion, grief, and death. She felt it all as a crus.h.i.+ng weight, so bewildered and overcome with intense emotion she could scarce stand by her own strength. All this time he clutched her in his arms, straining her till she became pale and faint.

Gradually his hold relinquished, and she hung in his arms, panting and exhausted, making an effort of consciousness; she had not yet the presence of mind to speak. Brought back to a sense of herself, she choked on a sob and let her head bow forward into his chest. Her hands groped for him as if she had lost him in the dark. Presently, she stilled against him. Her eyes closed. She wanted to lie against him and find rest, her emotions spent and worn.

In this stillness a sense of loneliness came. She could not feel him, only will and determination. At length she lifted up her face. Her countenance showed that the mental and emotional exertions of the experience had left her faint and afraid. For a long moment she looked at him. He knew not what her silence meant, and with a fearful heart said, ”Speak!” His face was devoid of colour.

She again became distraught, desperate at the threat of separation. ”Deacon.” She held his face between her hands. ”Do not venture where I cannot find you,” she pleaded, and looking up into his face with an expression intensely mournful, murmured: ”I feel I should die without you.” Her forehead sank against his chin. ”If you go to Terium, I will not be at your side, and I will not be awaiting your return.”

He became dangerously quiet, struggling in his heart with a sharp bitterness that was rising up within him. Almost imperceptibly he held himself hard and away from her, a heavy pounding in his chest, which rose and fell with the convulsive heavings of a man deeply wounded. He had bared his soul to her, and it had availed him nothing.

At that moment he looked up and saw Cedrik and Derek coming through the trees toward the camp. They had heard the violence in his voice. He drew her back slightly, so he could look into her face, and said, ”Say nothing of what has been spoken between us.” The words came out hard from his throat, which now felt hoa.r.s.e and choked.

”Are we to spend the night here?” asked Cedrik, breaking the tense silence. Deacon seemed to flinch at the intrusion. Mechanically he drew back from her and looked up to his cousin.

”I think so.” He wiped the sweat from his brow. As he went to pa.s.s, he paused near her. ”I leave in the morning with or without your favor.” He felt a slight struggle in his throat. ”You cannot alter my course.”

His face was set so hard in uncompromising lines that she knew there was nothing to be done with him. Something within her broke and sank. She knew that by morning, as sure as the sun would rise, he would be gone. Without a further word Deacon escaped to the isolation of his tent. He unwrapped the bundle of bedding and spread it on the ground, his mind numb. He knew not whether she would spend the night by his side, but not for an instant did his intention waver. Ducking briefly out to retrieve his bag, he was confronted by Cedrik, who said, blunt and to the point, ”My father always said that revenge is a knife sharpened at both ends. It cuts both ways.”

Deacon's mouth compressed. He looked past Cedrik to where Magenta stood with eyes that spoke of betrayal, his whole countenance showing fierce resentment. Her courage failed under his condemning gaze, and her eyes fell beneath his. She knew he would consider it disloyalty, but she felt she had no choice. Deacon then looked to the other standing before him and said with vexed impatience, ”Save your breath, Cedrik; I'll not suffer through your moralizing.”

To this came a determined reply: ”Please, hold your peace until I have said what I must say.” He went on hurriedly, lest Deacon should speak and interrupt before he had put forth his argument, but Deacon said nothing, which was worse. He seemed to be an impenetrable black wall.

With ever-increasing agitation Cedrik spoke his mind. He had got himself so worked up anyone seeing him for the first time would find it hard to believe in his customary good-naturedness.

”Give me no more advice!” said Deacon with fierceness. ”I have reasons good as any man ever had for killing, and I intend to.”

Cedrik shook his head with anger. ”Your mother would be anguished to find you so reduced.”

Deacon's control broke at that. He felt it, like a struck flint, flaring up and burning inside his chest. He clenched his fist and dealt a blow hard enough to stagger Cedrik. He stumbled forward himself from the force, then stood straight, his shoulders rising and falling with each forced breath. His lungs felt full of fire.

Cedrik's initial impulse was to retaliate, but he maintained control, pressing the back of his hand to his lip, which was split and bleeding. ”Better?” he asked and turned aside his face, spitting blood. ”You must hear reason!” he cried as Deacon pushed past him. ”d.a.m.n you! You're going to get yourself whipped and hanged for murder; do you understand that?”

With a blackened countenance Deacon said, ”I warn you now, Cedrik, do not attempt to prevent me!” With impatient fury, he began to fit the saddle on his horse. He would not endure another night with them after such a breach of trust.

”Don't turn your back on me,” said Cedrik. He started forward, furiously checked by his brother's embrace, who feared the strife would escalate into something seriously injurious.

”Let him go,” said Derek, restraining Cedrik. His tone more than his arms succeeded in this.

Magenta came to Deacon's side trying in vain to calm him. He cast on her a savage glance. ”You betrayed me,” he said and mounted the fl.u.s.tered beast. His name broke from her lips with an agony of entreaty such as would penetrate the hardest of hearts, yet he swung up without so much as a glance backward. With sudden desperation she smothered her mouth and nose with her hands as if she would weep. He gave a brutal kick to the beast's side and made off through the darkened trees. He was gone from her.

A pallor spread over her features, and she placed her hand against the tree as if she might fall from actual physical weakness. He had taken her breath away with him, and it did not return for the longest time.

Presently Cedrik came to her side, while Derek stood back with a look no less concerned. Cedrik rubbed his face and said in a matter-of-fact tone, ”It's impossible for us to reach home before he reaches Terium, but there is nothing else for us to do. He's beyond me; there's no way for me to restrain him. When we return, you will tell eomus everything he spoke to you.” Magenta nodded weakly, still staring out into the dark. Cedrik wiped the sweat from his mouth and looked at her, his face softened. Putting his hand on her shoulder, he said, ”Whatever his conduct, you can be certain he loves you.” He was distressed to feel her tremble slightly beneath his hand.

”Not enough,” she said, bitterly but subdued with despair.

Alone among the trees, Magenta stood staring into the night, broken hearted, her features listless with anguish. A single strand of black hair blew across her tear-stained face. She was lost in this sorrowful reverie when from behind a presence made itself felt upon her. Perhaps when she turned she expected to see Cedrik, for she suddenly became pale, a fear struck her heart.

Out from the shadows approached Fraomar, and as she met his eyes, a malicious smile of greeting went over his face. It was painfully sweet to have her alone and in his charge. He could barely contain himself. ”Magenta,” he said with a familiarity she resented. ”Your father has requested I escort you home.” His voice was calm and appealing, belying his violent countenance.

”If I should not consent?” she asked, looking at him with angered, frightened eyes.

He smiled with an arrogant twist of the lips and leaned toward her, speaking so that each word might fall distinctly on her ear, ”The choice does not lie with you.” His face became cruel, and with a brute force that would disgrace an ogre, he brought his forearm down on her cheek.

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