Reckless Rescue (18 page)

*****

T
YRIS FOCUSED HIS ATTENTION ON
the chess board in front of him, not on Marlee walking off. If she knew he was occupied, she wouldn’t feel bad about leaving him alone. She shouldn’t feel that she had to babysit him just because he knew no one but her. Nerris’s invitation had come at just the right moment even though he was unsure about the man’s intentions.

It seemed silly to believe Nerris had tried to stop him fixing the Hylista. The man had told him nothing but the truth about the damage, and his assessment had been accurate. It wasn’t his fault it was unrepairable. Tyris pushed away his suspicions. Aside from Marlee and Nelor, Nerris was one of the few people who actually felt familiar, and Tyris needed familiarity.

They played in silence for a few moments. Slowly, the atmosphere around them—the warmth from the fire, someone playing a harmonica quietly in the corner of the room, and the buzz of friendly conversation—calmed Tyris.

So Nerris caught him off guard when he said, “Marlee’s a pretty special girl.” While Tyris tried to decide how to reply to that, Nerris continued. “She deserves someone who is going to care for her properly.”

He phrased it as a statement, not related to him directly at all, but Tyris wasn’t fooled. It was a warning. “Marlee
is
a special woman,” he agreed. “I think she deserves to be with the man she loves.”

Nerris moved his knight out of the line of Tyris’s queen. “Marlee isn’t in love with Nelor,” he said.

Tyris stared at him, forgetting it was his move. “What makes you say that? They seem to care about each other a great deal from what I’ve seen.”

“They do care about each other. Of course they do. Yasmyn and I are good friends, so they spent a lot of time together as children. But that doesn’t mean they love each other.”

Tyris digested that for a few moments while he planned his next move. Nerris could have a point. Marlee sounded upset when she talked about Nelor. But it wasn’t love she mentioned when she insisted she didn’t want another relationship—the risk of being hurt again was what held her back.

“Nelor might be Marlee’s favourite out of the men here, but that is from a limited selection. How many potential partners do people usually meet before finding one they love? I don’t think Marlee has found that man yet,” Nerris said.

Tyris moved a pawn forward, not really thinking about the move. “She may not have,” he agreed, “but I think that’s for her to say, not you. There are plenty of people who live life with someone they just care for. Many people never find true love. But that’s their choice.” Was he talking about himself, or Marlee?

Nerris rubbed his beard and contemplated the board. He picked up his bishop and moved it to take Tyris’s pawn. Then he looked up. “You’ve only been here a short while, so I can understand you still value individual choice over survival, but for the rest of us, the choice isn’t so easy. Look around you, Tyris. How many babies and children do you see?”

Surprised, Tyris looked around the room. Aside from Jenka’s obvious pregnancy, and two women sitting by the fire with toddlers playing at their feet, he saw none. He shrugged. “Three. But surely there are more at home with their parents?”

Nerris nodded. “There are, yes. All up, we have a total of eleven children under ten years old. With a total of around forty adults of childbearing age, all actively trying to achieve a pregnancy, that number is frighteningly small. The next generation will barely have a choice of partners who aren’t related to them in some way. Can you blame us for looking to expand those numbers?”

Tyris was silent. Not having any children himself, and never having spent much time around them, and he hadn’t really noticed their absence. But Nerris was right, the numbers were alarmingly low.

How could he judge them? What right did he have?

M
ARLEE SAT BOLT UPRIGHT IN
bed, jolting Tyris from a sound asleep.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, rubbing his eyes.

Even before she answered, he heard it, the sound of panicked animals. Chickens squawked loudly, sheep and goats bleated. Any trace of sleepiness fled.

“The animals! Something’s wrong.” Marlee jumped out of the bed and pulled on her coat as she spoke, reaching for her boots.

It took long, agonising moments to get ready just to step out the door. But leaving the house without putting on warmer clothes was suicidal. The sound of the animal’s distress pushed them faster. Tyris raced out into the snow after Marlee, pulling on his boots as he went. Other villagers poured out of their houses, but Tyris and Marlee were the first to reach the barn. Even before he yanked open the heavy door, Tyris could see the red glow from the windows.

“The barn’s on fire!”

Marlee’s breath hitched. “Oh no.”

Now that he could see inside, it wasn’t as bad as Tyris had first feared. The back corner of the barn blazed, but the chickens that usually lived there could fly. They squawked around the barn, stirring up the other animals even more, but they didn’t seem hurt.

One of the oil lamps that tricked the chickens into laying in winter, lay on its side in the straw. The fire must have started there. But it was spreading quickly.

Chickens squawked and flapped out the door around him. “Get the goats out,” Tyris shouted to Marlee as he headed towards the blaze, where the sheep bleated in terror and ran circles around their pen.

Smoke filled the barn. Tyris pulled his coat across his mouth, coughing. He opened the gate, but the sheep continued to run in circles, either too scared or too stupid to figure out they could escape.

Tyris never thought he’d risk his life for an animal, but he knew how important they were to the villagers and his survival. He glanced at the fire, took a deep breath, and ran into the pen. Yelling and waving his arms, he chased the sheep out of the gate and down the path to the main doors, out into the snow next to Marlee.

The villagers had not been idle while he’d been chasing the animals. The adults formed a line and passed buckets of water hand to hand, throwing them onto the fire. Children ran the empty buckets back to the well. Another group had broken a window and shovelled snow through it onto the fire.

Though their efforts slowed the fire’s spread, they were making no real progress in extinguishing it. It seemed hopeless.

Perhaps they could put it out before it reached the hay if they had a fire hose, but with buckets and shovels? Tyris’s heart wrenched to think that the animals he’d saved from the blaze would probably starve to death. If they didn’t freeze first.

The fire began to creep up the walls of the chicken enclosure. Desperation fluttered in Tyris’s chest as flames licked up to the roof. The thatch caught, and burned rapidly, and a lump of snow fell through, smothering a patch of flames.

A large enough amount of snow would put out the fire almost as quickly as water. Even as the idea came to him, Tyris raced to the corner of the barn where stacks of firewood reached the roof. He glanced around frantically. Sure enough, buried deep in the chopping block was an axe. He pulled it free, and ran back towards the flames.

He hesitated for a moment. His plan was crazy and would destroy a quarter of the barn. But the strange build, in four separate sections, meant he just might be able to save the rest of it. He watched the flames lick closer to the poles that divided the barn into sections. Once they went, it would be too late. He had to act now. He lifted the axe and stepped towards the flames.

“Tyris, no!” Marlee scream rose above the sound of the crackling flames, but he didn’t stop. The other villagers must have realised his plan because as he came dangerously close to the flames near the central pillar that held up the roof in the chicken pen, he felt buckets of water being thrown at his feet.

He swung the axe as hard as he could, but even so it took several agonizing moments for him to cut through the thick trunk. When it only stayed upright by a splinter, he dropped the axe. He used all his strength to push the pole, hoping to shift its weight away from himself.

The pole creaked and groaned. Tyris jumped back and turned to run.

He barely managed to take a step before snow smashed into his back, throwing him to the ground. The fall knocked all the air out of his lungs, and even once the world stopped spinning, he struggled to breathe with the pressure on his chest. Luckily a pile of thatch had fallen across his face, creating a pocket of air around his mouth and nose. Dimly he heard the villagers shouting, but he couldn’t make out what they were saying through the snow.

He only hoped that the fire was out.

*****

M
ARLEE FELT TIME SLOW DOWN
as Tyris ran into the middle of the fire with the axe. As he chopped at the central pole, her breath caught in her throat. When the roof fell and he fell forward and disappeared beneath the snow and thatch, she couldn’t stifle the unconscious scream.

She ran towards where she had last seen him, stumbling over her skirts. She dropped to her knees. Ignoring the numbness of her fingers, she clawed at the snow. Where was he? She had to get him out.

Other hands joined her. Progress was agonisingly slow. They found his arm first, and Marlee jumped when it moved.
He was alive.
Tears froze half way in their journey down her cheeks. She held onto his hand tightly, sending him strength and hope with all her energy. With the other hand, she continued to dig.

It took a few more terrifying minutes before the back of Tyris’s head appeared. The first thing he said was, “Is the fire out?”

Only then did Marlee look around. The roof had fallen in completely in the corner of the barn, covering the fire in a foot of snow. Embers glowed in places around the perimeter and up the walls, but they were swiftly being extinguished by buckets of water and shovels of snow. The other three sections of the barn still stood, unharmed.

“Yes, the fire is out,” she assured him.

Tyris relaxed at her words and closed his eyes, alarming her for a few minutes until she realised his back, which was rapidly being uncovered, still rose and fell. She squeezed his hand, relieved to get a squeeze in return even though he didn’t open his eyes.

A few moments later the villagers scraped the last of the snow from his legs. “Can you move?” Karla asked.

“I think so,” Tyris said as he carefully rolled over and sat up.

Marlee held her breath as Karla felt all down his body, paying particular attention to his back. “You seem to be in one piece,” she said finally. “You’d better get home and into some dry clothes. That snow is melting fast, and we don’t want you getting frostbite.”

Marlee needed no further urging. She helped Tyris to his feet, and after being sure he wasn’t going to fall, she pulled his arm around her shoulders and led him back to the house.

“Get those wet clothes off quickly,” she said, as soon as they were inside.

Marlee lit a lamp as Tyris pulled off the coat and sat down to pull off his boots then his trousers. Between the villagers throwing water at his feet, and the melting snow, moisture had soaked through the lanolised wool, making him damp and cold all over. Shivers shook him, whether from shock or cold Marlee wasn’t sure. She ran and pulled the quilt off the bed, wrapping it around him then stoked the fire and added more wood.

Kneeling down before him, she reached through the blanket to take both his hands in hers. They were icy to touch, and she rubbed them gently with her fingers. “Are you all right?”

“C-cold,” Tyris stuttered. “Pins and needles in my fingers,” he added.

“Good, they’re warming up.” She tucked his hands in under the quilt, close to his body, then bent and felt his feet. They were even colder. She pulled over a stool and sat in front of him, tucking his feet under her skirt against her thighs.

Tyris muttered a brief objection, but Marlee ignored him. She examined his face, not certain now if the redness in his cheeks and nose were caused by the cold or embarrassment. Karla wouldn’t have sent him home with just her if she didn’t think the risk of frostbite was small, would she? She reached out to touch his cheeks, concerned that they were still cold under her fingers. She cradled his face in both hands, trying to impart her own warmth to him.

The flickering firelight illuminated his face. He looked down at her, his eyes dark, and a half smile touched his lips. She returned his look just as intensely, and deep down somewhere she admitted that when the roof collapsed, a fear that he might die, that he might not be a part of her life anymore, twisted her heart.

Tyris untangled a hand from the blankets and reached out to touch her face gently. His hand still felt cold against her skin, and instinctively one of her hands left his face and pressed his hand against her warm cheek.

“You’re beautiful,” Tyris mumbled, so quietly she wasn’t sure she’d heard him correctly. He must be delirious, surely he wasn’t really saying that to her? His head dropped towards hers, and his thumb stroked her cheek. Warmth tingled through her body, despite the fact that his hand was still cold.