Honor Amongst Thieves: Points of View
Part 2 of ?
Synopsis: Through the eyes of those who met Daniel and Vala in the course
of their adventure in AU-dom.
POV #2: Atrus
The campfire ashes had been doused and scattered, the bedding rolled, and the horse hitched to the wagon once more. Satisfied that their temporary camp had been properly dismantled, Atrus nodded to the other men in the party and tugged the beast's harness to set it in motion. The horse chuffed in protest, drawing a short laugh and an affectionate pat from the leader of the village of Makosis. The wagon was heavier on the return trip than it had been on the first part of their journey. Dried fruits and nuts, olives, cheese, bolts of cloth, and iron bars for the village blacksmith weighed far more than the baskets of grain and crates of wool and salted meats they'd traded in the city of Cethonis.
It had been a good barter, he smiled to himself, thinking how much the fruits and nuts would be appreciated until the wild berry patches near his village grew heavy again. Planting season was upon them now, and it would mean many days of hard labor to ready the fields for the next crop of grain.
"No rest for you yet," he teased the horse.
Darian, a huntsman for Makosis, grinned his direction, perhaps believing Atrus' words had been for him. As he opened his mouth to reply, a bolt of lightning split the clear sky, the rumble of thunder booming on its heels. Atrus nearly had his arm yanked out of its socket as the horse reared, screaming in fear.
"There are no clouds!" exclaimed Eschius, the taller of the two hunters who accompanied the headman. Both woodsmen added their strength to Atrus', calming the frightened beast.
"The light seemed to strike just over there," Darian announced, pointing to an open field of wild grasses.
"I am not a weather-witch," began Eschius, "but does Tseus not cast his light on the highest point? There are trees all around us."
Atrus stroked the newly-grown stubble on his chin. "Perhaps the gods have sent us a sign." Casting about, he looped the lead tie of the horse's harness over a branch, securing the beast in place. "Let us see what the message is, my friends."
Cautiously, Darian led the way through the thick growth, pushing aside the grasses so that the two who followed would have an easier passage. This land had been farmland when Atrus was a child, before the Jaffa of Cronus had come and slaughtered hundreds and taken dozens more through the Circle of Stars. Wild wheat grew here and there, and the terrain was still roughened from the long-ago plow.
As his concentration was on his steps, Atrus nearly collided with Darian when the younger man abruptly stopped, holding out an arm. "Something lies ahead," he whispered.
"Go on, then," Atrus chided. "We've made enough racket stomping through the field it must surely have heard us."
Flushing, Darian did as he bade, changing direction slightly and pressing forward. After a moment, he stepped to the side, revealing the form of a man.
He was curled up protectively, but Atrus could see that he was tall, perhaps a full hand taller than Eschius. His shoulders were broad, his body slender but well-muscled. He was also completely naked, and as Atrus reached toward him, he marvelled at the contrast between his own olive skin and the young man's pale flesh.
At the touch on his arm, the man started, eyes flying open in shock. Atrus stared in amazement, having never seen eyes the color of the sky. As the striking orbs darted about frantically, he wondered if perhaps the strange color was owed to blindness. The gaze soon settled on Atrus, though he was guarded and fearful.
"Who are you?" Atrus murmured.
Shivers wracked his body as his breath fogged in the chilly morning air. He panted out something which was garbled and nonsensical, then his eyes rolled back and he slumped to the ground. Blinking in surprise, Atrus laid a hand on the man's forehead, feeling the heat which poured from his skin.
"He is fevered," he announced grimly. "In this air, he will catch his death. Darian, move the goods in the wagon to make space and open our bedding for him. Eschius and I will carry the Sky Man."
They set about their appointed tasks, Atrus and Eschius pulling the pale man's limp form upright and slipping his arms across their shoulders. His greater height meant his bare feet dragged the ground, but there was no help for that at this time. He was heavy enough as it was!
Finally, they reached the wagon, and Darian assisted them in getting the stranger lifted into the wooden bed. They laid him so that his feet were toward the horse and his head near the open end of the wagon, then laid another bundle of bedding atop him. The horse was untied and set into motion again, with Eschius leading it and Atrus walking along at the rear of the wagon, ready to assist the unconscious Sky Man if necessary.
He still hadn't awakened when they stopped for the midday meal, but Atrus still attempted to coax him into drinking. The man choked but reflexively swallowed the water without rousing. Sighing, the older man stroked his fingers through the short brown hair, intrigued by the color. Like everything else about this strange man, it was several shades lighter than Atrus had ever seen on a native.
Jaffa had come and gone several times in Atrus' lifetime, but only twice had he seen any in person. The last time—which was also the last time any Jaffa had come through the Circle—had been two years past. He remembered them as tall and broad-shouldered and some were as fair of skin as the Sky Man. Their heads were covered by metal, so he had no idea what color their hair had been, but he recalled the most telling feature of a Jaffa were the drawings on their foreheads.
The young man's forehead was bare, though tiny lines of tension betrayed his discomfort. His fever continued unabated, but it was not high. Atrus didn't understand why he remained unconscious, but then again, one never knew what to expect from a Sky Man.
He smiled to himself. No one had ever met a Sky Man.
The sun was still high when the party at last reached Makosis, the children of the village calling out as soon as they saw the approaching wagon. The menfolk dropped their hoes and rakes to assist with unloading, but Atrus held out his hands to slow them.
"This morning, there was a flash of lightning and thunder," he began, "then Tseus saw fit to gift our village with a Sky Man. He sleeps in the wagon, troubled by a fever."
"A Sky Man?" questioned Nelos, the smith. "What do you mean?"
"His skin is pale," answered Darian, "and his eyes are light. Atrus thinks he fell from the sky."
"There was lightning, then there was this man," he replied. "What else would you have me to believe?"
Nelos had stopped believing in the gods many years ago. "I am sure it is as you say, old friend, though you know my feelings on such things. What is his name?"
"That is a curious thing," answered Atrus, stepping around to the end of the wagon so they could see the sleeping man for themselves. "He spoke nonsense when we found him, but has slept since. He did not even awaken when I attempted to get him to take water."
Melia, Atrus' beloved wife, pushed her way past the menfolk. "Should you not be unloading this wagon so that the horse may be used to plow?"
Atrus waved Nelos over. "Help me carry him to my house."
Naturally, Melia was curious to know who "him" was, splaying her hand over her heart when she saw the newcomer. "He looks like a young god," she breathed.
"Atrus, should you be concerned your wife knows what a god looks like?" snickered Galos, a man but a few years his senior.
Melia slapped him on the arm. "Tseus has not visited any woman in many generations, Galos, but that does not mean we ladies do not know an Adonis when we see one."
Ignoring the hoots of laughter, Atrus, Eschius, and Nelos carefully slid the bedding and its occupant out of the back of the wagon and began to carry him toward the village. Melia led the way, shooing curious onlookers away so that their path was clear. Behind them, Darian began to direct the unloading of the trade goods.
Atrus' house was one of the largest in the village, with three separate bedrooms. Two of those bedrooms belonged to his daughters, while the third was his and his wife's. Melia would hear nothing of displacing any of their four girls, insisting on laying the man on the soft bed of their own room. Nelos and Eschius excused themselves to assist with the wagon, leaving the couple alone with the sleeping Sky Man.
"He is fevered," Melia pronounced, laying the back of her hand on his forehead. "How long has he slept?"
"Since we found him this morning," answered Atrus, repeating what he'd told the menfolk. "He is not overly warm, but he sleeps as though quite ill."
"Perhaps he is simply very tired," she replied. "That would explain his continued slumber and the mild fever. We must continue to try to get him to take water, though, as he will surely need it."
They stripped the travel bedding from him, placing the young man under the linen sheets and pulling the goose-feather quilt over him. Melia then went to draw water and prepare the evening meal, while Atrus watched over the Sky Man.
Evening was drawing close when the young man began to stir again, opening his strangely-colored eyes and staring at Atrus for a long moment. He opened his mouth to speak, but as before, only gibberish emerged.
"I do not understand you," Atrus apologized, resting his hand on the young man's arm, causing him to jerk away weakly. "You have no reason to be afraid, Sky."
"Zhek?"
"I do not know what that means," he answered. "My name is Atrus, and you are in my home in the village of Makosis."
"Atrus?"
"Yes. What is your name?"
"My name... I do not know."
It was slow and strangely accented, but at least he was understandable. "You do not know your name?"
"I... No, I do not remember. I do not remember anything."
Atrus felt saddened for this shaking, frightened young man. "Perhaps in time you will, Sky."
He frowned in confusion. "Why do you call me that?"
"Your eyes are a color I have never before seen on any man," he answered. "They are the color of the sky itself! And you appeared in a flash of light, a great crash of thunder." He smiled. "I believe you to have bestowed upon this village as a sign of favor from Tseus. Or, since you came to us in a wild field, perhaps it was Demetta who sent you to us. Until you remember your own name, I think we will call you 'gift from god'. What do you think?"
But the Sky Man's strength had waned, his eyelids growing heavy and closing. Smiling to himself, Atrus patted his arm again, then settled into his vigil. Something told him this young man was someone who had done great deeds yet was destined for even greater.
"Sleep well, Theadan," he whispered.