12- Animus

Animus’s heart hammered in chest.  Cold sweat trickled down his back.  When he put his hand on the back of his head, it came away soaked.  Why am I sweating? Certainly he was nervous.  After all, he had learned more about his mother in this past hour than he had known in his entire life.   And he wasn’t certain he like what he had learned.  At first, when she told him he could use magic, he was excited, even happy.  

Then she’d sickened Leir with a touch.  And showed no remorse.  

His mind kept going back to Leir.  The man was as strong as his father.  Animus witnessed Leir carry logs on his shoulder that were so heavy, Animus couldn’t lift one even an inch off the ground.  During the rainy season, when the mud made the roads unusable, Leir wrestled other men in the field behind the Inn Wayward Souls.  Sometimes he challenged two or three at a time.  And won.

To see him suddenly falter before his eyes…

“What bothers you, son?”  His mother asked.  The back of his mother’s hands touched his brow.

Instinctually he stepped away from her.  “Nothing.” Why am I nervous of mother?

She said, “You look so pale.”

His eyes blurred for a moment.  Soon he realized that he was crying.  His body shook.  A coldness surrounded him, making him shiver.  He felt embarrassed.  Alone.  Afraid.   But of what?  The tears came, unbidden.  

His mother tried to draw him close.  As her hand came close to his forehead, he backpedaled.  “No,” he said.  Then his voice raised.  “Don’t touch me.”

Her stare was a vice.  Under such a gaze, his feet refused to move.  When she touched him again, she said, “You’re burning up.”

How can I be hot?  I’m freezing. Bewildered, fear cloaked him.  He staggered, turned and tried to run from the house.    The door opened in front of him.  But as he reached it, the way out became blocked.

Recognition stopped him.  “Papa.”  

Fear took him again.  Animus tried to get past, but Kas stopped him.  The next thing Animus knew, his father was hugging him tight.  Animus looked up at him.  “Why did that happen?  Leir fell, Sterl’s hurt, I don’t understand.  Did mother—.“

He felt his throat constrict. Did mother make me sick, too?  

He wanted to tell father what she said to him, but the words refused to leave from his mouth.   Surely Mama wouldn’t give me Stiggler’s.  Animus struggled against the unseen force on his throat.  

It released.  Animus coughed and then said, “Papa, did she—.”

His legs wobbled.  Strength fled him.  Everything blurred.  Worse, he couldn’t breathe.

The only thing her heard was his father yelling, “Animus!”  

Without knowing how he got there, Animus was lying on the floor.  Somehow the hardwood floor was comfortable.  But he was still cold.

Several pairs of hands gripped his arms and legs.  A pair of feminine hands supported his neck as he was lifted on the ground.  He heard talking.  “Papa?”

Animus closed his eyes.

Animus woke in a dimly lit room.  He lay in a cot tucked into the corner, the room itself no bigger than one of mother’s walk-in closets.  Canned vegetables lined the shelves along the far wall.  A heavy blanket made of thick wool covered him from neck to feet. I’m burning up. Animus pushed the blanket to the floor.  

“You’re awake,” a woman’s voice said.

Animus tried sitting up but his strength failed him. Why is my vision blurry? His body collapsed back to the small bed on which he lay.  

He heard light steps. As she approached, his vision cleared.  She was tan of skin, her blond hair pulled into a braided ponytail. Like Yayisha wears.  But that’s where the resemblance ended.  This woman was shorter by nearly a foot.  The woman wore pants instead of skirts, each sleeve hugging her well-formed legs.  Her shirt lingered over her hips and waist, leaving their curves mysterious.  She did little to disguise her breasts, which were displayed prominently in the V-necked blouse she wore. Nice Just not as big as Baizees.

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

When she was close enough so Animus could see her face, he was surprised.   Vara.  He tried to speak but ended up coughing again.

She knelt next to him with a mug with what he guessed was broth or tea.

She said, “Drink this.  It’ll help that cough.”  

Animus tried to rise again.  She put her other hand on his chest leaned over him.  “I’ll spoon-feed you.  Relax.”

What’s she doing here?  Instead, he said, “Where am I?”  

“Dalpa and Helen’s house.  In the basement,” Vara said.

“Why am I here and not in the temple?”

She served him a spoonful of broth.  “For every sip, I’ll answer a question.  Drink.”  

The broth was warm and delicious, made from some kind of beef stock.  He’d seen the cooks at the inn making broth with fat and bone from cows, sheep or even wild boars.  No sooner had he finished one spoonful then she served him another.

“You’re here because your mother didn’t want to move you until Zelarius saw to you.”  

The new healer. “What happened to me?”

Vara nodded.  “You collapsed.  It’s lucky your mother was here.”

“What’s wrong with me?”  

Vara shrugged.  “Several people in town have the same thing.  I don’t know what they’re calling it.”

“Stiggler’s fever,” Animus said.   Did mother make me sick then?  But at the moment his priorities were Vara.  

The most gorgeous woman he’d ever laid his eyes on, and there she was, feeding him soup.  His questions of her seemed unending.  Why was she there?  Is it because she’s related to Sterl?  Where did she come from?  Why did she help him the other night?  When he finally could make his mouth work, he asked, “How did you know to be there last night?”

Vara’s eyes strayed to the far corner.  Animus could see stairs led up from there.  She leaned close, whispering.  “Luck.  I was passing by and heard sounds of struggle.”

She’s lying.  Yet, it seemed trivial.  He could only think of kissing her.  Would she be better or worse at it then Baizee?  How could it be worse?  Baizee’s awkward at it.  Besides, Vara’s much better looking.   But the serious realization nagged at him.  It wasn’t possible.  The private bathhouse lay far away from the main road.   Animus doubted she could have heard anything from that distance.  

Instead of confronting her about it, he said, “You saved my life.”

Her eyes went to the stairs again.  “We can’t talk about this right now.  I must go tell your parents you’re awake.  They’re upstairs.  Your mother’s tending Sterl.”

 Sterl!  How could I have forgotten him?  “How is he?”

Vara shrugged.  “His leg is wrapped and he’s been awake a few times.  Master Zonce thinks he’ll live.  Now you lay there and rest.  We’ll talk later.”

“Who’s Master Zonce?”  Animus asked.

“Zalarius,”  Vara said.

 She hates him.  I can tell by her scowl.

“Why do you call him ‘Master’?”

Vara opened her mouth to answer.  Instead, she blushed and stepped away.  “I have to go.”

As she walked away he asked.  “When can I see you again?”

Vara walked back over and knelt next to him.  “Soon.  Please, don’t tell anybody that I was there last night.  Especially Zalarius.”

Animus shook his head.  

“Promise me.”

“Promise.”

She stared at him for a moment, her thumb rubbing back and forth on his chest.  If I had her, I would never want for anything else.  

His eyes grew heavy.  

Vara grinned.  “Seld root takes effect in minutes.  It’ll help you sleep.”

Words became complicated.  As his lids drooped, her lips pressed against his forehead.

“I’ll see you at the temple,” She whispered.

 The temple?  Why would I see her there?  

The powerful herb took effect, and Animus drifted to sleep.