The Unseen Hand

Ch 10: Take a Deep Breath

Brindi, Eighth of Sund'im, 445 A'A'diel

The sun had climbed high in the sky by the time Avaren awoke. The crash of surf echoed in the cavernous tunnel. Dull pain spread behind her eyes as she squinted, staring past the iron bars that marked the secret entrance to her father's home. The acrid smell of salt water and bat droppings filled the air.

Avaren gripped the iron bars and stood. A delicate exploration revealed tender bruises on her neck and arms; scraped knees. She took a step forward, then stopped. Her legs trembled, and her stomach felt sour. Frightful visions of her father's clouded eyes and Paulo's bruised flesh assaulted her. Death had deformed her loved ones' faces into grotesque, bloodless masks that would forever haunt her.

Avaren had lived a sheltered life and was wholly unprepared for the grief that tore her insides. She fell to her knees as sudden tears rolled down her cheeks. "Papa," she cried, "I love you, Papa. Why-oh gods-why has this happened?"

For a long time, her strangled sobs joined the roar of the sea.

When there were no more tears left to shed, Avaren crawled to where her rescuer lay. The man's olive complexion was ashen, and his half-open eyes roamed haphazardly. Avaren shook him. "No, no, no, you can't die." She gripped his face. "Please, tell me what I can do. What is wrong? Are you hurt?"

Jarle smiled dreamily as he followed her movements with unfocused eyes.

Avaren followed the man's gaze down to her chest where her robe was parted at the front. Quickly, she drew it closed. "What are you smiling about, fool?" Avaren snapped.

Jarle attempted to respond, but his effort resulted in a muffled groan.

Part of her wanted to claw the man's eyes out; to blame him for the cruel world that had taken her father and her lover, but she could not. Jarle had helped her at a time when all had seemed lost. It was time to return the favor. She removed the man's hood and slapped his cheek to focus his attention. "Blink if you can hear me."

Jarle blinked once.

Relieved, Avaren exhaled. "I am going to try to help you. Blink once for 'yes' and twice for 'no.' Can you move?"

Jarle blinked twice.

The man's lips were dry and bluish. Avaren checked him for signs of bleeding and found none. Had he somehow been poisoned in the scuffle with the assassin? "Why can't you move? Are you poisoned?"

Jarle blinked once.

Avaren considered rummaging through Jarle's many pockets, then thought better of it. "Is there something in these pockets that can help?"

Jarle slowly blinked twice.

Avaren got up and walked to the iron gate. She felt along a limestone outcrop until her fingers closed around a key. Her hand trembled as she unlocked the rusty bolt. She had opened the gate that led out to the ocean a hundred times, but this time, would be her last. With her father dead, the place she had called home was nothing more than a tomb. When the gate creaked open, Avaren walked past it to the opening of the cave.

Light filtered through the canopy of clouds, bathing the jagged mouth of the cavern in a warm glow. Eight armlengths below, white-crested waves rose and fell against the cliff face. Red-footed gulls squawked, riding the drafts that swept up from the sea in search of a meal. To the west, partially hidden by the haze of sea spray, stood the docks. The tall masts of great ships bore the colorful standards of Ghul'denaan, Wheatshore, A'diel and her father's homeland of Thyra. Two vessels from the Calantian city-states; of Stellae and Pirensa were being unloaded on smaller wharfs. The cries of dockworkers carried on the breeze.