Authors: Craig Gehring
Callista opened her mouth to respond, but she did not answer. Edward’s body moved. It tensed just a bit, but it was enough to rivet her attention. His eyelids fluttered. She grabbed his hand.
She remembered James and glanced back at him. He was already taking his leave, smiling once more and waving for her to turn her eyes back to Edward. The door clicked closed.
Edward’s hand tightened around hers. His eyes opened. He took in her face for a long while, then frantically eyed the room. He tried to pull himself up, but
he wasn’t strong enough.
He was strong enough to lie there awake for
hours as she cried holding him. He was strong enough to whisper, “It’s okay,” “We’re okay,” and “
I love you,” and listen to her mumble and laugh and cry some more.
Eventually, she fed him soup. She helped him sit up, which he managed fine, but his hands shook too much
for him to reliably
get his food to his own mouth. After he got some sustenance down besides IV fluid he seemed sharper. He was the same Edwa
rd
, only exhausted
. He hadn’t changed at all.
“I’m sorry,” he said.
“For what?” she asked.
He looked at her incredulously.
“Listen,” she said. “That was the worst experience I’ve ever had in my life. But it’s not your fault. It’s not your fault, okay? And we’re okay, okay?”
He still looked doubtful.
“Look, if I had died, then you could have been sorry, okay?”
He chuckled.
“Eat more soup,” she said, lifting another spoonful to his mouth.
Nockwe had left the city once he’d ascertained that Edward was safe.
Edward found him at the village, sitting against the ancient rock that marked the center of Onge civilization.
Nockwe did not react to Edward’s approach. It was as
though Nockwe were expecting him.
“This rock,” said Nockwe. “M
y great-great-grandparents lived and died not a thousand paces from this rock.”
Edward followed Nockwe’s gaze. He was
watching
the ruins of his village.
“Your health?” asked Nockwe.
“Returned,” said Edward. “And yours?”
“I have a sickness that can’t be cured.”
The grounds of the village still smelled of ash.
“I am sorry for your loss. Callista told me.”
Nockwe studied Edward’s face and then nodded, accepting his condolences. Nockwe didn’t look sad. He looked as though he were smoldering.
“Do you know how I became chieftain over all Onge?” asked Nockwe.
“You
challenged three men back to back, and you survived.”
Nockwe shook his head.
“Ten years ago, when Bri’ley’na was only fifteen, she had agreed to be my wife. Our chieftain, though, would not give his blessings. His son wanted her for himself. So Bri’ley’na petitioned the chieftain directly, telling him that she would not allow herself to be married to anyone but me. He finally consented. His son grew so angry, however, that two days before the ceremony he tried to rape my Bri.
She escaped
because I discovered them and intervened. When I charged the son with the crime, the chieftain wouldn’t hear it.”
“So then you challenged him?” asked Edward.
“No, then his son challenged me. And then his brother intervened. And then their father intervened. And after I killed my chieftain, I had to kill each son or else they would kill me.”
Nockwe stood up and leaned against his rock. He sighed. It was the closest to grief Edward had ever seen him. Finally, Nockwe locked eyes with Edward. “The only day of my life worse than the day I became chieftain was the day I lost my Bri.”
Edward felt he had to say something. He didn’t know what to say, but he had to say something. “Your Bri’ley’na was brave,”
said Edward. “I owe her a debt.”
Nockwe nodded. “So do I. I intend to pay it. Now tell me, Edward, do you come to reminisce, or is there business on your mind?”
May as well be direct.
“I’m chasing Mahanta,” said Edward. “I thought you might want to join me. I would be grateful if you would join me.”
Nockwe considered it momentarily. It seemed he’d already considered it. He nodded.
“I will join you.” He sat back down against his rock.
“We’ll get him, Nockwe,” said Edward, looking out at the ashes of Nockwe’s home.
“But we won’t get my people,” said Nockwe.
“We’ll save who we can.”
“My sons, my daughters…and they are all my sons, my daughters. Do you understand, Edward?” asked Nockwe.
“Yes, I understand.”
“When my path crosses with Mahanta, I will have only one agenda. You must know this, and expect nothing else.”
“I know, Nockwe. I know,” said Edward.
Nockwe nodded, satisfied, and went back to his
watching
.
Darian Riley, who his general called “the fixer,” did not have much
to go on
.
This missionary wa
s gone. His assignment was gone, abandoned and burned to ash. It was as though the Onge had evaporated into the air, taking their missionary with them.
Riley took his time. He had all the time in the world. He only had one thing to fix at a time, and he worked at that one thing until he fixed it.
First he would search the village. He was searching for the corpse of a white man. That was what he most suspected. It wasn’t long, however, before his mind turned to other possibilities.
In the ashes of one of the huts, Riley found the cross. It was badly charred, but the marking was obvious. It was an archaic Jesuit device, one that Riley was more than familiar with it.
At the southern side of the southernmost freestanding tree in the village clearing, Riley dug until he found Edward’s letter.
Darian Riley found Edward’s words to be quite enlightening.
Craig Gehring writes fiction and non-fiction in a variety of genres. His passions are education and writing. Craig scored perfect scores on the ACT and SAT and then went on to found Ring Marketing, an ad agency specializing in internet marketing and design. Craig has written
SAT ACT Mastery, Norman, Nirvana Effect
, and is currently working on a new sci-fi epic. Craig lives in Baton Rouge with his wife and three children.
Contact Craig by email, on his blog, or on Facebook.
http://www.craiggehring.com/blog
http://www.facebook.com/nirvanaeffect