Kascha was unmoved. “You have used your old wounds as a crutch long enough. With work, we will make them stronger than before. The world tires of you being a prisoner of your past. Now get up.”
“Go to hell!” Shan couldn’t stop himself. The pain only compounded his physical and emotional need for a drink. “You know nothing about me! You don’t know what I have been through, how many died because of me! It is a shame I can never live down!”
Kascha lowered her staff gently as her eyes pierced him relentlessly. “And this is how you choose to honor the dead? You are mistaken, Shan Fellar. It is your actions now that shame their memory. Now get up.”
Shan, overcome with emotion, screamed then. Nevertheless, somehow, through the pain, he slowly dragged himself to his feet. Taking his training staff in hand again he hobbled at Kascha, weapon at the ready. He lunged his staff at her stomach in a quick attack. Kascha redirected his strike with her dragon staff, catching Shan in the chest with a swift blow. As he doubled over, she struck his back, knocking him to his knees.
Shan gasped for air again yet refused to stay down. Pulling himself up again, Shan poised for yet another attack. Swinging with all his might, he missed Kascha as she easily evaded his reckless assault. Ducking, she spun to the side, sending her staff to the back of Shan’s legs. He howled again as his feet were knocked out from under him. Falling on his back, Shan grimaced as tears began to form in his eyes.
Kascha watched him for mere moments. “Even in your grief you are proud, Shan Fellar. And that is something we will have to destroy. For only when we vanquish your pride will you begin to learn.”
Shan gripped at the staff that draped over his chest. He wanted to curl into a ball. He no longer wished to hear the truths from Kascha that hurt him more than any beating she could administer to him. In five years, he had become nothing. No, it was much worse than that. Shan had become less than nothing and now the ripples in the wake of his choices plagued his thoughts. The sobriety allowed him to hear the truth in its entirety. The withdrawals tormented every second of his folly.
Shan despaired.
It was then that he looked again and Kascha of the Dryganus. She was stoic and beautiful, but more importantly in that moment, she was correct. As Shan looked up, his conscience deep within whispered to him again. It was the breath that filled his thoughts as he looked at her that gave him the edge to focus, to strive for. Harnessing reserves he didn’t know he possessed, Shan focused his entire being around a word.
Redemption.
Taking his staff, Shan Fellar struck it into the ground. Using it for leverage, Shan slowly pulled himself up. He grimaced as his legs protested more strongly than before. Gritting his teeth, he refused to take his eyes off of Kascha as he fought for every inch upward. He held to that single thought as his chest heaved, as his muscles strained.
Finally, Shan made his way again to his feet. Taking another deep breath, Shan assumed a defensive posture, ready for Kascha’s next attack. No longer did his eyes carry fear or apprehension. For the first time that morning, acceptance and determination washed over him. He was finally ready.
Kascha lowered her staff fully. “It is in your eyes at last. We are finally ready to move on, Shan Fellar.” Motioning with her staff, Kascha headed out of the training circle. “Come, it is time to strengthen your legs once more. We have a long way to go and time is always against us.”
For a moment, Shan watched her go. The red hues that signified the Dryganus clans dazzled in the early morning light. Something in his mind told him that this morning’s exercise, his breaking down if you will, would be the easiest part of his training. Somehow, he knew deep down, that the true test was ahead of him, that his road would be more difficult than he ever imagined.
And for the first time since he made his decision, he was perfectly content with that. For the first time in as long as he could remember, Shan was ready. Wiping the sweat off that rested upon his bristly face, Shan limped after Kascha. As he did so, he left his walking staff behind.
-27-
Serra had heard more than a handful of stories of the cozy little town of Wayvred. She had been told that it was reminiscent of Morganne (minus the gunslingers of course) with its rustic swagger. The town was touted as simple in its living, yet friendly to travelers. Voltaire mentioned that he enjoyed unwinding in the town, claiming it was a great place to be at one with thought and relaxation. Serra had been told that Wayvred was a welcomed stop along the road, with good food, comfortable beds and old-fashioned hospitality.
The Wayvred that Serra saw before her eyes presently was a long way from these things.
Serra and her group arrived at Wayvred assisting the survivors of the battered convoy. However, the sight of Wayvred was neither a relief, nor a comfort to those returning home. As the group closed in toward the town, crawling at a snail’s pace, smoke was seen coughing deeply into the horizon, its origins emanating from Wayvred. Very little was spoken, save for one low sentence whispered from the lips of Jozlyn Corzon.
“It never ends,” she said.
Rynsik’s concerns had been dead on. The town of Wayvred had been pillaged by small squads from Thorne in need of supplies. It was the same story as the convoy with many wounded and some dead. The remaining fires in the aftermath spurt breaths of life, stubborn to being extinguished in the late afternoon. All around the weary travelers were the tell-tale signs of conflict as Serra and the others crossed eyes with the bewildered and drained. Wasting little time, the warriors of Axiter set themselves about their work.
Rynsik gave a few brief orders as he talked to the town leaders, a husband and a wife, the husband carrying one arm in a sling. As Serra watched silently, she noticed that Rynsik seemed to only be giving the town leaders half his attention as he looked around the battered town. Serra then watched as Rynsik said a few brief words to the two of them before heading in another direction. Silently, Rynsik walked to a quiet corner, so to speak and surveyed the outskirts of Wayvred.
As he stood in silence, Serra once again found herself growing angry with him. Those under his command are working themselves to the bone, and he stands around and does nothing. I wouldn’t have expected such behavior from him. Even the words in her head carried the flustered anger that Rynsik was notorious in evoking within her. She couldn’t help but look upon him with simmering irritation as she bandaged yet another casualty of war.
But once again Serra found her emotions swaying quickly to the other side of the proverbial spectrum as Rynsik rubbed at his eyes and temples with the hand not holding his staff. Maybe it is more than that. I haven’t seen sleep. He must be exhausted whether his body chooses to acknowledge it or not, she thought. And if he is anything like Norryn, he must be feeling much of this anguish. He is likely trying to not be overwhelmed.
“Serra, I could use your expertise over here.” That was Jozlyn, kneeling over a man who looked more worse for wear than the one Serra was administering to.
“Coming.” Serra jogged the distance to Jozlyn. She had Jozlyn hold the man steady while she set his right arm. The man cried out briefly but did not scream in his pain. Once again, in between sentences and duty, Serra kept an eye on Rynsik.
In the time it had taken her to set the arm, Rynsik had turned around and placed his attention on an old woman. From his actions, Serra surmised that he knew her. The old woman was sitting in a wheelchair, and her eyes were completely covered with dark strips of cloth. Rynsik looked as if he were happy and pained to see the woman. Rynsik took deliberate steps toward her, putting his staff and pack down to the ground as he approached. “Now there is someone I have not seen in a long time,” he said.
Instantly, a smile crept onto the face of the old woman. “And that is a voice I’ve not heard in some months. Rynsik, is that you?”
Rynsik knelt before the elderly woman as she reached her hands out, placing them upon his mask. “It is. It's good to see you, Maren.”
Maren grinned as she ran her hands
over Rynsik’s face and hair. “This is a most pleasant surprise, and after recent events I welcome it gladly.” Her hands left his head and clasped upon his shoulders. Rynsik’s own hands draped over her forearms. “I thought I sensed you. You know, I can make you out in a crowd any day.”
As they continued to talk, Serra caught sight of Esmie as she walked by. “Hey, Esmie, what’s the story there?” she asked, pointing.
Esmie shrugged her shoulders as she continued her steps. “You got me, young one.”
Kylynne of the Blackwells answered the question. “They’ve known each other for about a year now. Rynsik rescued her from Thorne saboteurs. He saved her life and administered medical aid before tracking down and apprehending those responsible. In doing so, he defeated an entire squad of soldiers on his own.”
About that time Willem was walking by. “Yeah, I heard of that one too. It’s a popular story passed around in Axiter. It really got him noticed around the clans and respect for him grew, despite his young age. That was one of his first missions as a Ro’Nihn.”
Esmie snapped her fingers. “Oh yeah, now I remember. Ever the hero he was even at 15. Just about six years earlier than the standard age allowed to venture out of Axiter as a Ro’Nihn. He snuck out of town against Kascha’s wishes and has been at it ever since. He just can’t help being the cat’s meow I guess.” Esmie motioned toward Maren. “That was the lady? How could I have forgotten something like that?”
“Because you are getting old, remember?” Serra winked at her friend.
“Blah, blah, blah,” said Esmie.
Willem looked around the town before checking the sky to gauge the time. “So, when do you think we’ll–”
Esmie waved a hand angrily as she looked on at Rynsik. “Shhhh! Not now! Can’t you see we’re eavesdropping?” she said. Kylynne and Serra paid Willem no mind either as they two watched Rynsik and Maren.
“Well, all right then,” said Willem as he took steps away from them. “I think I will just remove myself from the crazy that’s festering here. Not that you will miss me, much less notice anyway,” he said in lower tones. None of the women paid him any mind as he departed.
Rynsik was now knelt beside the wheelchair that carried his friend Maren. “I’m sorry,” he said "I was hoping that maybe your vision would have returned over time. It saddens me that it has not,” he said.
Maren waved a dismissive hand in Rynsik’s direction. A gentle smile never left her face. “Ah, don’t let it trouble you. I’ve lived a good life in nearly 174 years. I’d say that was more than enough time to be gifted with sight.” she tapped on her right temple. “Besides, I’ve created enough memories in here to get me through to the end of the clearing if you fetch my meaning.”
“I guess I do,” said Rynsik
About that time, a woman walked over to Maren carrying a very small child. She looked exhausted yet refined with a quiet beauty that carried beyond that of flesh. She looked almost shy in her reservation as she approached Maren and Rynsik. “Mother, let’s get you inside. You need your rest.”
Maren leaned her head toward her daughter’s direction. “I’m ready then, Susie. Oh, did you bring Lexia with you?”
“I did,” said Susie.
Maren clasped her hands together. “Oh good! Please bring her to me. I’ve someone I want to introduce her to.” Maren extended her hands, and as she neared, Susie handed her child to her grandmother. “There, there, angel. Grandma has you now.” Maren stroked one of the child’s cheeks with a worn, gentle hand. Cradling her grandchild in her left arm, she began to rock the baby while playing with her hair. “Rynsik, I think you remember my daughter Susie. But I have been dying for you to meet my granddaughter. This is Lexia. Lexia Winterset. Lexia knows you already you see. She hears of your deeds in bedtime stories.”
Rynsik leaned closer to look upon Lexia. “She is a beautiful baby. I see she shares both your features almost equally. How old is she?”
“She’s six months old now. We almost lost her at birth, but she has grown very strong in time,” said Lexia’s mother Susie.
“So I see,” said Rynsik. “I congratulate you on your blessing.”
“Thank you, young Ro'Nihn,” said Susie.
“She’s our little angel,” added Maren, caressing the face of her grandchild. “And such a good-natured child too. Hardly ever a fuss or a cry. And so. . .beautiful. So beautiful,” she trailed the last few words as her hands traced over Lexia’s face.
“Your touch does not deceive you, Maren,” said Rynsik. He watched Maren with Lexia for a few moments. He could feel his friend’s swell of pride for her grandchild but wagered that she wished to lay eyes upon her. Rynsik thought in silence for a long moment, gearing himself for what he was going to do next. “Susie, would come over here please? I want you to stand close to your mother. And remove the wrapping around her eyes.”
Susie got close to her mother as she regarded Rynsik with curiosity. As she reached for the wrapping, Maren placed a hand up to stop her. “I don’t think this is really necessary,” she said.
“Just trust me on this, Maren,” said Rynsik.
Maren leaned back into her wheelchair as she allowed Susie to remove the cloth that shielded her eyes. Thus freed, from obscurity, the scarring and damage around them was evident. Both eyes, while open and alert, were obviously diminished of the ability of sight. It was apparent that the reminder pained Susie to see and Maren to show.
Rynsik looked at Maren’s scars somberly before nodding. “Good. Susie, be ready to support your mother and child. I’ve never tried anything like this before,” said Rynsik as he walked around to the back of Maren’s wheelchair.
“Well if you are trying to unnerve me, you are succeeding in your job, Rynsik,” said Maren.
Rynsik placed a hand on her shoulder and squeezed it slightly. “Rest easy and trust me for a few moments longer. I want you to close your eyes and relax until I tell you to open them.”
“If you say so, Rynsik.”
“I do. Now relax.” Rynsik placed both of his hands at Maren’s temples. His fingers conformed to the shape of Maren’s head. Rynsik closed his eyes as he began to draw in slow, deep breaths before lowering his head in concentration. By this time, he had himself a small crowd observing his actions.
“What’s he doing?” asked Serra in hushed tones from a careful distance.
Esmie shrugged distractedly. “Your guess has become as good as mine on this one.”
“No idea,” said Kylynne.
A minute or two passed, and still Rynsik said nothing, Though the strain on his face said that his concentration increased, as did the intensity of his breathing. Whatever it was he was doing, Rynsik was clearly exerting a great deal of effort. Maren’s head shook slightly within the hands of Rynsik, but still she did as she was asked. Finally, Rynsik dropped to one knee as the muscles in his arms tightened. “Open your eyes, Maren,” he whispered through pained breaths.
Maren once again did as she was told. As she did so Maren and her daughter both drew in a surprised breath of simultaneous comprehension. With a gasp Maren raised a hand over her mouth as the world filled her view. Her pupils moved up and down taking in every inch of her daughter.
“Bless the heavens,” she uttered hoarsely. “Child, I can see . . . I can see you!”
Tears were welling in Susie’s eyes, but no words trickled from her lips. With her free hand, Maren touched Susie’s face. Her lip trembled as her eyes soaked in the face of her daughter. With a contented smile, she turned her attention to her lap, where Lexia lay cradled sleeping in her other arm. She took a quick, deep breath and then lost it as her free hand found the cheeks and hair of her young granddaughter.
“My gods, there you are, angel. Beautiful little angel...” Maren traced her fingers over the contours of Lexia’s face. Smiling, she gently curled a finger through the softness of Lexia’s growing hair. Her lip trembled still as she looked over her shoulder to Rynsik. “I can see her. Rynsik she is so
beautiful. How did– ”
“See your grandchild, Maren. See her in this moment and make it last in your heart for all time,” rasped Rynsik.
Maren did as she was bid, returning her focus to the child upon her lap. Lexia stirred and opened her young, gentle eyes at the ones that regarded her now. Tears found long blinded eyes as grandmother and grandchild looked upon one another. “Hello, my dear. My gorgeous angel. She is the most beautiful thing I have ever seen, Susie.” Maren brought Lexia to her chest, kissing the child on her forehead as she sobbed happily. Putting Lexia back on her lap, Maren cupped her small head, soaking in every bit of the moment.
It was in that instant that Rynsik’s hands began to tremble. His legs faltered and the young Ro’Nihn fell backwards upon the ground. He covered his eyes, as if they caused him pain from the exertion. Maren found that her newfound sight was fading fast. Quickly, she handed Lexia to Susie. With haste, she drew her wheelchair around to face Rynsik. Her last moments of dimming vision were of him.
Maren regarded her young friend as the light of her eyes faded again to darkness. She saw his masked face, looked once within his dark eyes before all that she saw once more was blackness. Taking a breath, she smiled down at Rynsik before extending both of her hands. Rynsik recovered himself and took those hands in his own. As Rynsik pulled himself to his knees, Maren put one arm on his shoulder and the other upon his masked face.
“I have seen your face at last,” she started, “and I know now what cares that you carry.” She leaned further from her wheelchair, kissing Rynsik on the forehead. “But for my part, thank you for those moments that I shall never forget. I don’t know how you did it, but ever shall I be grateful.”
Rynsik found his feet. Looking down at his friend he squeezed her shoulder. “I’m sorry it couldn’t have been more.” Rynsik turned from her, nodding to Susie and Lexia before looking again at Maren. “Until our paths cross again, Maren.”
Echoes of Ashener Page 24
