Dragons of Spring Dawning - Margaret Weis [119]
“She worked hard—too hard. After the Cataclysm, it was all we could to do to keep food on the table. Our parents were old and sick. We nearly starved that first winter. No matter what you have heard about the Famine Times, you cannot imagine.” His voice died, his eyes dimmed. “Ravenous packs of wild beasts and wilder men roamed the land. Being isolated, we were luckier than some. But many nights we stayed awake, clubs in our hands, as the wolves prowled around the outside of the house—waiting.… I watched my sister—who was a pretty little thing—grow old before she was twenty. Her hair was gray as mine is now, her face pinched and wrinkled. But she never complained.
“That spring, things didn’t improve much. But at least we had hope, my sister said. We could plant seeds and watch them grow. We could hunt the game that returned with the spring. There would be food on the table. She loved hunting. She was a good shot with a bow, and she enjoyed being outdoors. We often went together. That day—”
Berem stopped. Closing his eyes, he began to shake as if chilled. But, gritting his teeth, he continued.
“That day, we’d walked farther than usual. A lightning fire had burned away the brush and we found a trail we’d never seen before. It had been a bad day’s hunting and we followed the trail, hoping to find game. But after a while, I saw it wasn’t an animal trail. It was an old, old path made by human feet; it hadn’t been used in years. I wanted to turn back, but my sister kept going, curious to see where it led.”
Berem’s face grew strained and tense. For a moment Tanis feared he might stop speaking, but Berem continued feverishly, as if driven.
“It led to a—a strange place. My sister said it must have been a temple once, a temple to evil gods. I don’t know. All I know is that there were broken columns lying tumbled about, overgrown with dead weeds. She was right. It did have an evil feel to it and we should have left. We should have left the evil place.…” Berem repeated this to himself several times, like a chant. Then he fell silent.
No one moved or spoke and, after a moment, he began speaking so softly the others were forced to lean close to hear. And they realized, slowly, that he had forgotten they were there or even where he was. He had gone back to that time.
“But there is one beautiful, beautiful object in the ruins: the base of a broken column, encrusted with jewels!” Berem’s voice was soft with awe. “I have never seen such beauty! Or such wealth! How can I leave it? Just one jewel! Just one will make us rich! We can move to the city! My sister will have suitors, as she deserves. I—I fall to my knees and I take out my knife. There is one jewel—a green gemstone—that glitters brightly in the sunlight! It is lovely beyond anything I have ever seen! I will take it. Thrusting the knife blade”—here Berem made a swift motion with his hand—“into the stone beneath the jewel, I begin to pry it out.
“My sister is horrified. She cries to me, she commands me to stop.
“ ‘This place is holy,’ she pleads. ‘The jewels belong to some god. This is sacrilege, Berem!’ ”
Berem shook his head, his face dark with remembered anger.
“I ignore her, though I feel a chill in my heart even as I pry at the jewel. But I tell her—‘If it belonged to the gods, they have abandoned it, as they have abandoned us!’ But she won’t listen.”
Berem’s eyes flared open, they were cold and frightening to see. His voice came from far away.
“She grabs me! Her fingernails dig into my arm! It hurts!
“ ‘Stop, Berem!’ she commands me—me, her older brother! ‘I will not let you desecrate what belongs to the gods!’
“How dare she talk to me like that? I’m doing this for her! For our family! She should not cross me! She knows what can happen when I get mad. Something breaks in my head, flooding my