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Coming Home/SpinkaChapter 2
The cave I chose for my shelter was not far from the meadow. Timotheos continued to play his syrinx while he awaited the other boys. I had so gladly spent the night talking with him that I had forgotten to feed. It was too late now. The pinks and oranges of the night sky had given way to the blinding white of sunrise. I retreated deeper into the shade, reclined, and closed my eyes to sleep, but despite the inevitable birdsong, I could not. Why was I awake? Could it be because, after thirteen long years, I had found my brother's soul living his new life? Old Steppo, our god's highest priest, said my brother and I would not be apart long. The holy man in Canaan who was waiting for a son from his barren wife at the time of my visit said much the same. He taught me that promises can be kept.
Normally, the rising sun put me into a stupor. I began to think that something must be wrong and strained my senses toward Timotheos. He was no longer playing. At this distance I should not have heard his breath or his heartbeat, but our connection was such that I did. There was danger on the mountain! His sheep bleated in terror before I heard the growl and then the rush of his feet as Timotheos pelted toward the threat.
It didn't matter that the sun was overhead. Even as I ran, I heard the whistle of his sling as it flew, and the flutter when his stone hit and fell through the foliage of a meadow tree. I came upon them fast. The sun's glare was still in Timotheos' eyes. The lion was male, large and old if my senses could be trusted. Without a pride, he was looking for an easy meal. Its ears swiveled toward me, but he didn't turn. I might have been the wind.
The lion bounded toward Timotheos and crouched to spring, claws and fangs extended. The next I knew, my hands had closed on its shoulders and I was turning him away from my brother, wrestling him to the ground. Sunlight stabbed at my skin, slowing me, but I had power enough for this. The beast tried to drive his fangs into my neck. I moved, but not fast enough. His fangs punctured my right arm and bit down to the bone. I howled with the pain of it. Pulling back would rip my arm, possibly from its socket. I healed quickly, but I doubted I could grow another.
I tried unsuccessfully to get him off when something made him shift his hold. Another missile whistled and struck the lion's cheek. He whined but stubbornly refused to forfeit my arm. I turned to see Timotheos set another stone into his sling. The next missile hit his flank. He ignored it and gnawed at my arm while his claws dug into my legs. With weakened fingers I seized his lower jaw and held it tight. I pressed back on his upper with my uninjured left hand, trying to force them sufficiently apart to retrieve my arm. I recalling fighting a wolf just days after my change, but then I had others of my kind behind me to keep his pack at bay. I should be stronger now, but the sun and my blood loss enervated me. I continued to stretch his jaws, keeping him between me and the sun. He grunted and fought to escape, his yellow eyes angry, hurting and confused. At last, I pulled free and rolled to my feet.
The lion backed up and paced, barely moving his hind legs as he tried to confront both of us at once. I was not his normal prey, and though I looked human, I was not. Defeat must be an unusual experience for him. He had wandered from his usual feeding grounds. Had he been here before, there would have been more boys on guard. I fell back to the shadow of a tree. Taking my movement for retreat, he advanced again on Timotheos, growling low. My brother should have run while I distracted the beast, but I saw not that he would not desert me.
The lion crouched to make his charge when I rushed forward and leaped onto his back to steer him away from Timotheos. He twisted and snapped, but I tightened my legs around his ribs. The lion attempted to buck and roll me off, but I held on, pressing until he crumbled to his side. "Run, Timotheos!" I screamed. "Get away!"
The boy scampered up the tree. Once he was safe, I slid off, and roared my triumph, keeping the lion in sight. He took deep heaving breaths and panted for a while. Then, he grunted as if disgusted with his morning - all that effort and no meal. I nearly chuckled. He gave me a last angry glare, took a last look at Timotheos in the tree, sneezed and trotted off to look for easier prey.
Timotheos climbed down and ran to me. My hide tunic and pants protected my skin from the sun somewhat and my beard protected the lower part of my face, but my cheeks, eyes and nose felt like they were on fire. He pushed aside my long hair. "Your skin is hot, and your poor arm is so torn, I can see the bone and the flesh."
I needed blood to heal, but first I had to get out of the light. I shaded my eyes and tried to get my bearings. "The sun," I said, weakly. "It hurts." He wore a worked goat leather cloak with a hood to protect him from rain and the cold of night. The hood folded twice above his eyes to flatten it so he could see even in a storm. The morning air would feel cold to him, but he pulled off his cloak and flung it over me. The hood helped my swollen eyes greatly. Even injured, I could move faster than Timotheos, but he trotted beside me as I strode toward my shelter. "Your sheep will wander off," I murmured, worrying that he would get in trouble for attending me.
"The other boys will find them, but they'll see lion tracks, and blood on the grass. They will think the lion dragged me away. They may have sent word to my family that I'm dead." He squinted into the distance.
"Go and show them you're alive. I will manage."
"No. You saved me; I won't abandon you. Where are we going?" My brother wouldn't have left me alone in distress either. Rather than draw burning sunlit air into my lungs to speak, I pointed my chin. I had left my pack, mantle, and walking staff in my shelter when I set out. We bent low and entered at last into the blessed darkness. I spread out my mantle and lowered myself gingerly onto it.
Timotheos crouched at my side. "Your arm, Radu; should I bind it for you?" He reached for his cloak, ready to tear it into strips to do so.
"No. Out of the sun, I will heal. If only I had blood. I should have hunted," I murmured mostly to myself. My weakness was tampering with my usual caution and I was speaking stupidly.
The boy's green eyes grew solemn as he thought over what I had said. "You are a god like Ares, aren't you?"
I would not lie to Timotheos. "Some would say I am." That explained why he was less afraid of me than he might have been. "Have you fed Ares?"
He shook his head. "He has priests to do that. Besides, he doesn't take boys." It was good to know Ares had adopted my sire's teachings.
"Sleep will help me. After dark, if you can spare me a lamb or a kid, its blood will complete my healing. You can say the lion took it but you saved the others. Go now, before I give into my nature. I did not save you to harm you."
He looked at me intently. "You were stronger than the lion. Helping me cost you. Let me at least wash you clean you before I go." He dampened his cloak with water from his flask and leaned over me to wash my wounds.
The smell of his blood was sapping resistance. I prayed to All Mother for strength when, as he worked, Timotheos' neck grazed my lips. "Stop," I demanded. "I don't want to hurt you."
"I know." His movement had not been accidental. "I have my own Heracles and his name is Radu. All you have is me and we are friends now."
He was right that I did not want to hurt him, but Timotheos had more confidence in my skill than I had. It was too dim for him to notice my eyes begin to glow, showing me his veins and arteries as streams of nourishment. "I will," I said, declaring my decision. He must have seen Ares feed for he moved closer and tilted his head. "No. Not like that. I'm too hungry to be careful, and I dare not risk you." He did not ask why a shepherd boy would be so important to me.
"Tell me what to do so you can be careful."
There was just enough room above my head to sit up. "Lean into my shoulder. Give me your wrist." He must have many questions. It would take time to answer them all and I did not have the time. I was near fainting with need. Only love for my brother's soul could restrain me from tearing into his throat. My feeding must not harm him. Nor must he become frightened. If he acted the part of prey, I would become the predator. "My face will change. Do not watch."
I lifted his wrist to my lips and held it steady while my face paled, my eyes grew white, and my fangs descended. I had just felt a lion's fangs in my arm, but other, older memories returned. Children of our kingdom were trained to feed our protective gods as an act of worship. Becoming a god was decided for me before I was born. The lion's teeth had been dull; mine were razor-sharp. I chose my spot and bit.
He shuddered and drew in a swift breath between clenched teeth, but made no other move. I had never tasted my brother's blood. Once I had changed, he was gone. The night of the day we died, I buried Sammik on our home mountain, sleeping in his grave with him from sunrise until twilight of the next night. We had known each other from our mother's womb. Death had parted us but now, our souls were together again. We might have been two drops of water nestled together in a cloud, separated as we fell to the sea. In the sea of a million drops of rain, we had found each other.
In my mind, I saw Sammik as a ghost of his former self when he, too, was twelve. My brother was proud, trained in kingship. Timotheos ruled sheep, but in both lives, he demonstrated responsibility and loyalty. My brother and I had warm brown eyes and curly brown hair that we wore loose past our shoulders. Timotheos' longer hair was nearly black and tied back. His eyes were green as the lapis I had seen in Khem. Sammik was Timotheos now, but his soul and his love for music remained.
His eyes moved behind his closed lids, seeing what I saw but without understanding. His generous nature filled my cold and silent heart with the love and the life I missed these thirteen years. His hot blood spread through me, healing me from the inside - repairing bone, knitting flesh and growing new skin.
I stopped drinking and lifted my head. With the infusion of life, my fangs retracted to normal seeming canines, brown colored my irises once more and my ashen complexion grew ruddy. "Open your eyes." Pale daylight seeped into the cave. Timotheos waited for his eyes to adjust, and then looked at me in wonder. My arm was whole again and my new skin was smooth, neither burned nor broken.
He stroked my previously mangled arm. "You are healed."
"Yes," I whispered.
Rather than ask how, he said, "I saw two boys in my mind. They looked the same. Who are they?"
I had not meant to tell him yet, but being who he was, he was more perceptive than anyone else could have been. "The boys were twin brothers and princes from my country. The men they became died. When I can, I'll tell you more about them and explain why you saw them. Give me your arm again so I can clean your wound."
I licked away the last trickle, savoring the sweetness. A predator would know he was claimed by one who had defeated a lion. "Go home now. Show your friends you are alive before they worry your parents. Only you know my resting place. Do not tell the others where I sleep." I handed him my traveler's staff. "A sling can be helpful against a lone wolf, but it is not enough against a lion, especially with the sun in your eyes. Bring a spear next time." He bent his head. "It could have happened to anyone. It happened to me once, when I was your age, but I wasn't alone."
He lifted one dark brow. "Who was with you?"
"My god watched over me. He lived on a mountain top above the meadows like your gods." My limbs were becoming heavy and my words were slurring. "There is so much I want to tell you, but I must sleep. Stay safe, Timotheos. Bring my staff back tomorrow night."
"You are my god," I thought I heard him say as I slipped into the oblivion my body demanded. I did not hear when he left the cave.
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