by R A Oakes
“Why not?”
“For her, the moment’s already in the past. Corson lives in the present, and if a person doesn’t have relevance to that moment, then it’s as if she’s forgotten he ever existed. The person’s completely out of her thoughts and memory.”
“But why not remind her of it?” Kirtak asked.
“Because it takes all of Corson’s effort to keep her
balance mentally, emotionally and spiritually right now in the present. Even referring to the past can overwhelm her. She can’t cope with anything but the present moment.”
“Too strange.”
“Too deadly,” Balder warned.
“Sounds pretty bad,” Kirtak said.
“Well, there is one thing worse.”
“What’s that?”
“If you win Corson’s respect and friendship. Because then, if you ever fail her, her disappointment will be compounded and become dramatically out of proportion.”
“Does she trust you, Balder?”
“Yes.”
“How do you feel about that?” Kirtak asked his old
friend.
“When I’m with her, I feel more alive than ever. But it’s a slippery slope, and my friendship with Corson puts me on that slope with her. If she goes down, she’ll drag me down as well.”
“Not if you leave her. Just walk away.”
“I can’t do that. I have the misfortune of being in love with a woman who already has one foot in the grave and wouldn’t mind putting the other one there as well. She takes risks just to feel alive, but those risks could get me killed.”
“No matter what happens, I’ll always stand by you.
You’re not alone.”
“I don’t expect you or any of our warriors to get involved. It’s bad enough that I am.”
Looking over towards their men, Kirtak said, “Hey, guys, come over here.”
Responding quickly, and sensing their leader was in trouble, Balder’s warriors surrounded him feeling protective. Gripping Balder’s shoulders with both hands, Kirtak said, “No matter the danger, no matter the risks, I will never leave you.”
“That might not be wise, old friend,” Balder said.
“Well, I never said I was very smart,” Kirtak said
smiling ruefully. “If you’re in trouble, we’ll all come to your aid. Many times, you’ve done as much for each of us. We owe you our lives.”
“That’s true!” all of his men said almost in unison.
“Anyway, who wants to live forever?” Kirtak added.
“I guess we’re all doomed,” one man said jokingly, but he took a step back when Balder’s other men glared at him. “Maybe, but maybe not,” Balder said. “Corson will be joining us in the coming fight with Chen. And we may welcome a warrior amongst us who, at least spiritually, has been beyond death’s door. She’ll show no fear, and she won’t feel any. It could be the winning edge we need, if we’re to survive this coming battle. And come it will. We can’t avoid it, and Corson won’t try to avoid it, she’ll seek it out.”
“Straight out of hell she is, is she?” one man asked.
“No, she’s not from hell, herself. But when she’s in
battle, she brings hell with her as her ally.”
◆◆◆
Out on the street, Corson and Aerylln were continuing on their way toward the stable unaware of the men’s stares and conversation.
So, Chen is near, is she? Corson asked herself as she reached her arm over her back and felt the handle of her sword. It always brought her comfort. It was one of the few things in life she knew she could trust completely.
Well, if it’s a fight she wants, it’s a fight she’ll get. And death, itself, will be following close on my heels. Where I go, death always follows. I draw negativity to me like a moth to a flame, Corson thought. And there’s nothing I can do about it. Something inside my inner self is broken, and I don’t even know what it is or how to fix it. She almost cried.
No emotions, she commanded herself. And she shoved her sorrow deep back inside of her. I don’t know what’s wrong with me, I just don’t know! She breathed a sigh that only a person with a truly weary soul can do.
She looked at Aerylln. Maybe she is the hope for the future, Corson wondered.
“I have a magic sword,” Aerylln said half to herself as if in a daydream.
“You do?” Corson laughed. “Where is this magic sword?”
“The horse is guarding it.”
“What horse?”
“My horse,” Aerylln replied.
“You left your sword in the stable?” Corson asked in stunned disbelief. “A warrior never leaves her sword unattended.”
“This is not an ordinary horse.”
Corson looked in wonder at Aerylln. And then she looked at the stable that was now just up ahead.
A magic sword and a magic horse, she thought skeptically with the cynicism of one who feels lost in a sea of hopelessness.
Corson looked at Aerylln one last time as they approached the stable. What is it that’s different about this little one?
As they walked through the doorway of the stable, Corson was about to meet both her future, as well as two weapons so powerful they would bring daylight into the darkest and most remote reaches of her soul. A sword and a horse.
As Aerylln entered the stable, she felt as if she’d entered into an energy that was unlike anything she’d ever experienced before. Corson sensed it, too. It felt like the very walls were so soaked that they radiated a supernatural force.
Corson’s hand instinctively went to her sword and raised it an inch out of its scabbard.
“It’s okay,” Aerylln whispered, as she put a comforting hand on her warrior friend’s shoulder. “It isn’t a danger to us.”
For the first time in her life, Aerylln felt like she was in charge. She moved with the rhythm of the energy like she was born to it, like it was her natural environment, like it was her home, which was perceptive on her part since all of those things were true.
In awe, Aerylln felt the presence flowing in her, through her and around her. She held up her hands, spread her palms wide and felt her flesh pushing up against an invisible living presence.
Corson was totally shaken and unnerved. All color had drained from her face and her skin was flushed.
What is that look in her eyes? Aerylln wondered. In shock, she realized her friend was afraid. Corson looked like a little girl who was lost and unfamiliar with her environment.
Aerylln, by contrast, felt powerful, at peace and was almost drunk on the presence. She wanted nothing more than to just sit down and yield totally to the force itself. To have it flow unobstructed through her, without any particle of her own will blocking the flow. For Aerylln, total surrender was the only response to such a presence.
This was not Corson’s first choice of a direction to take in her own life. She felt the presence calling to her, urging her to give herself over to it as Aerylln had. In a state of almost panic, Corson unsheathed her sword and swung it blindly through the air in defiance.
Aerylln watched her friend through an inner peace so profoundly real to her that it was like looking through a haze or an invisible fog. But even being virtually seduced by the energy, she could see her friend’s fear of the unknown was beginning to boil over.
With total disregard for Corson’s flailing sword, Aerylln walked toward her friend as if she, herself, were in a disembodied state and almost unable to put any tangible value on anything in the physical world, even her own life. She ducked under Corson’s arm as the sword took a wicked swipe at nothingness. Aerylln leaned up against her friend’s back and, bracing herself, began to shove Corson out of the stable.
The fresh air outside was like a tonic and Corson’s head cleared. By contrast, Aerylln felt like a teenage girl again. Everything was once again as it had been.
Aerylln longed to reenter the stable, but Corson wasn’t going back in there for any reason, no matter what.
<
br /> “What was that?” Corson screamed in frustration and rage. Never before had she felt so out of control of her own life, as if who she was, what she did, what she wanted and even what she thought was irrelevant. Which, of course, was the case.
“That was my master,” Aerylln said somehow instinctively knowing it to be true.
“What do you mean your master?” Corson shouted.
But Aerylln couldn’t explain what she meant or what she’d experienced.
“Well, you can go back inside there with it and bring out my horse along with your own,” Corson said firmly feeling assured of herself once more, though still on somewhat shaky ground.
Corson had been accused of being a lot of things in her life, few of them good, but no one had ever referred to her as a philosopher or spiritual artist. Corson would always feel more comfortable with things she could sink her sword into. Something solid.
At that moment, all of life came down to one fact that could be carved in stone. Corson was not going back into that stable.
Let Aerylln’s master bring them out if it wants to, Corson thought.
And like so much of life, you need to be careful what you wish for because you just might get it, Corson’s massive warhorse, and Aerylln’s horse, Zorya, came out of the stable at that very moment.
And the sword came with them, slung over the pommel of a saddle that Zorya was now wearing.
Corson leapt onto her horse, which stood next to Zorya and in doing so almost bumped up against her. Corson felt her body pass through a blinding light and, having had just about all she could stand of that, she spurred her horse and galloped along the street a good block.
Aerylln stood with her face against Zorya’s massive head feeling safe and secure in the presence of her protector. She leapt up into the saddle and unconsciously unsheathed Baelfire, her sword, and held it aloft.
Corson was almost knocked from her saddle by the sheer force of the power that struck her. People along the road cleared a path for Aerylln who moved slowly through the crowd with such a blinding radiance that Corson could hardly believe what was happening. Some villagers even felt moved to kneel.
Corson never forgot this moment, for time seemed to stand still and appeared to be at Aerylln’s command. And the warrior woman never forgot how relieved she was when she recalled the wizard who lived a few miles outside of town.
I’ll take her to see him, Corson thought. This is way too much for me!
And then it hit her that this was the first time she’d ever felt she was in the presence of someone who was greater than herself. And she knew one thing more.
I will give my life in defense of this young woman, if necessary, she said to herself. And somehow intuitively she knew that such a day would come, as sure as nightfall on a rainy day.
And for the first time, Corson experienced an emotion so alien to her that she had no idea what it was. But it caused her chest to ache and her eyes to burn with tears. For the first time in her adult life, Corson experienced what it was like to love another person. And following close on its heels was the fear of loss, another new emotion that was alien to her. For now Corson had someone she never wanted to be without ever again, and at that moment she wedded her own life to Aerylln’s. And God have mercy on anyone who tried to hurt Aerylln, for Corson knew that she would not.
Well, we’re off to see the wizard, Corson said to herself spurring her warhorse into a gallop as Aerylln, Zorya and Baelfire followed close on her heels. And it was the first time light, rather than darkness, followed her.
◆◆◆
“The young woman has left Mistress Xan’s castle, Lord Daegal,” the spy told his master. “And she is already united with Zorya and Baelfire.”
“She’s not fully united with them yet. She’s Lyssa’s granddaughter, not Lyssa herself. The young woman is next in Lyssa’s line to be drawn into the Trinity, but the three have not become as one yet,” the warlord growled.
“They’re taking her to see Eldwyn, the wizard,” the spy said with some fear in his voice.
“Eldwyn’s an old man,” Lord Daegal said. “He’ll never be able to guide the Trinity into the Light.”
“We should kill them all now, my lord. Why risk them being together at all?”
“If we take them down now, we destroy two people, a horse, and a sword. But if we wait until the moment of the transformation when the Light seeks to unify them, then there is a moment of vulnerability when we can invade the Trinity itself and turn it to the Darkness,” Lord Daegal informed him.
“But we have the young woman’s father,” the spy said.
“She’s never met her father before. He’ll be of no use to us at this point. What’s the girl’s name?” the warlord asked. “Aerylln.”
Chapter 5
“C’mon, Aerylln, let’s have some fun!” Corson shouted nudging her horse, Tempest, and breaking into a full gallop. Aerylln didn’t ask where they were going but feeling her shoulders and chest being thrown back, the teenage girl gripped Zorya’s mane tightly as her warhorse surged ahead responding to the challenge.
Chasing her friend, Aerylln soon discovered how exhilarating riding a powerful warhorse could be, as the two majestic animals went charging ahead at breakneck speed, the love of racing driving them onward.
Zorya and Tempest thundered across the landscape with their hooves pounding the ground tearing up grass and dirt and sending it flying. The two warhorses didn’t just run along at full gallop, they took command of the very earth beneath their feet leaving it shaken and shuddering in their wake.
The warhorses’ mighty chests heaved and their powerful hindquarters propelled them forward with such velocity Aerylln felt she was being launched from a catapult. Trying to lessen the wind resistance, the teenage girl bent forward pressing her body against Zorya’s neck. Hanging on tightly, and determined to enjoy the experience, Aerylln fought her fear mastering it and shoving it deeply inside of herself. Urging Zorya onward, the young woman thought, I’ll trust my horse. She’ll take care of me and won’t let me get hurt. And sensing Aerylln’s confidence in her, Zorya drove herself even harder.
Charging into a forest, the two warhorses and their riders sped along a path through the trees with an intensity Aerylln now found invigorating. Two villagers standing next to the trail stepped back several paces, but it wasn’t enough as an invisible field of energy erupting from the raging warhorses knocked them off their feet. Yet even sprawled out on the grass and feeling dazed, the villagers knew Zorya and Tempest were the finest examples of horseflesh they’d ever seen.
Approaching a steep hillside, the warhorses tore up the incline defying the ground beneath their feet and refusing to let it impede their headlong rush. Never having experienced anything like this before, Aerylln gasped as Zorya’s energy raced through her like a cleansing wildfire leaving her feeling both exhilarated and exhausted from the sheer excitement. And the energy kept coming, flowing in seemingly endless waves remaking her, rebuilding her.
I could definitely get used to this, Aerylln thought recalling a story Mistress Xan had told her about women in a matriarchal line of succession spanning hundreds of years and producing incredible horsewomen. Aerylln felt she belonged in such a story, as if it was part of her own heritage, and unbeknownst to her, it was. Aerylln’s true destiny had been a closely guarded secret, kept even from her, and Zorya and Baelfire’s names had never been mentioned.
However, there were a few who knew of her, a very precious few. And nearing the wizard’s cottage, the trees began paying homage to Aerylln as the teenage girl rode along unafraid of the energy coursing though her.
“Aerylln, Aerylln,” the trees of the forest whispered.
“Aerylln! Aerylln!” the trees began shouting as if welcoming home one of their own. This isn’t a dream, the young woman thought. It’s not my imagination. But still, she was unafraid.
Reaching the crest of the hill, Zorya and Tempest turned ‘round and ‘round neighing loudly and
stamping the dirt with their hooves.
Up ahead, situated in a grove of oak trees, was a modest stone cottage with smoke drifting out of its chimney radiating a sense of stillness and serenity. After the warhorses cantered up to it, Corson dismounted and said, “I hope this old wizard can help us.”
Sliding off her warhorse’s back, Aerylln followed Corson to the door as Zorya smiled to herself and thought, This should be interesting.
When Corson knocked on the door, they heard a muffled voice saying, “Who in the world could that be?”
A moment later, the door opened and an old man stood before them. His beard and hair were white with age, and he was wearing what appeared to be wizard robes as far as Aerylln knew. With his eyesight being poor, the old wizard squinted at first, but his eyes grew wide upon seeing Aerylln.
“How’s this possible? Lyssa, is that you?” he asked in a whisper. However, looking past Aerylln and seeing Zorya, the old wizard smiled.
Growing impatient with him, Corson pointed at Aerylln and said, “My young friend here has an unusual sword and a rather spooky horse. We’re here to ask you about them.”
Barely hearing the warrior woman, the wizard made a beeline for Zorya and said, “Oh, my dearest love, how long has it been since I looked into your beautiful eyes?”
“Be careful speaking to a horse like that around witnesses,” Zorya said laughing. “There are laws against that sort of behavior.”
The wizard wrapped his arms around Zorya’s neck running his gnarled fingers through her long, golden mane. She felt the wizard’s tears falling upon her shoulder.
“This is embarrassing,” Zorya said speaking telepathically, but everyone was able to hear her quite clearly. Then, to the wizard, Zorya whispered, “Eldwyn, not here and not now.”
The old wizard squinted again while looking very closely at Zorya and made a rather surprising discovery. “Why, you’re a horse! A horse!”
“Does this mean you don’t love me anymore?” Zorya laughed. “What happened to how you miss my big, beautiful eyes?”
