“Why does she think so?”
“Because the cramps are worse in my right calf than my left,” she said as she chuckled.
“Well, we will find out soon enough,” he said, pulling her in for yet another hug.
“Stop that! You must go so you are not there too late tonight,” she said.
“Yes, dear Jonsia. I will hasten there and hasten back.” He gave her one last kiss on the cheek. He his fingertips, touched her belly with it, and then turned and walked briskly through the door.
The Lady Osin’s estate was not far away from their humble room, only a brisk thirty-minute walk. He had done yard work for her before, but he had never trimmed her roses, though he was very familiar with them as were all people who visited her. The estate itself was circled by a large iron gate with only one entrance. Lining the exterior and interior of the tall fencing were incredibly large rose bushes of every variety imaginable. Before the passing of her husband, the late Lord Juor Osin, the fencing was barren. She had the bushes brought in to commemorate her late husband whom she called “Her Rose” because of his tenderness and overtly loving nature.
He enjoyed the short walk. Outside of the village limits, the country side was rolling and pleasant. Because of Lord Osin’s “Beautification Initiative”, while he was still alive that is, several annual and perennial flower beds had been planted stretching the entire way to his estate. When he passed, the Lady Osin decided to use the amount of funds previously allocated to his initiative for the immense rose bushes. As such, the flower beds, while still present, were largely barren and unkept. However, he still enjoyed walking next to them. As he breached the official village limit and began the short walk along the countryside, he noticed storm clouds forming in the distance. He thought it was strange because the weather patterns usually developed from the opposite direction. As he attempted to judge their speed against his estimated time to arrive at Lady Osin’s estate, he felt confident he would be there well before the storms. He picked up his pace just as a precaution, but still judged he would have plenty of time to finish his journey and wait out what he hoped would be a brief, early evening cloud burst.
About ten minutes into his walk, however, he noticed the storm had accelerated both its formation and pace. He heard the first, distant clap of thunder much sooner than he anticipated. The sky had grown much darker much more quickly than he would have liked. As he saw the black clouds growing closer and closer, he was startled by a bright flash of lightning striking much closer than he was comfortable with. He was nearly ten minutes into his walk and now did not feel confident he could make the rest of the distance without being caught in what had developed into a vicious storm. Because there was nowhere to find refuge between where he was now and the Lady Osin’s, his only choice was to turn back and run as fast as he could. Perhaps he could reach the outermost guard post and take cover within its thick stone walls. When he made up his mind, and right before he turned back, he caught a glimpse of yellow in the periphery of his visual field. He turned back out of reflex more than conscious thought. Straining to focus and now battling the large but still slow drops of rain, he saw it again, a brief flash of yellow against the backdrop of the quickly approaching darkness and rain.
His mind dismissed it quickly, but his eyes alit with purpose when he saw it was a woman. He yelled to her, but she could not hear him over the now roaring thunder and winds. He wasted no time and darted as fast as he could into the storm and toward the woman. Lightning continue to flash around him, striking what seemed like only feet from him. The thunder was now so loud that it forced him to stumble as if the ground itself had been shaken. Yet still he ran. Calling out to her again and again proved all for naught as the thunder was so frequent, it seemed as if the multiple blasts were woven into a singular boom offering no period of reprieve for the ears. So, too, had the lightning become so fierce that it seemed consciously driven to interrupt his efforts to reach her. He thought they failed him when he saw a final lightning strike engulf the woman in its deadly brilliance. When his eyes adjusted again, he saw her fallen body and hoped he was not too late.
When he reached her, sliding to his knees, it seemed the storm’s intensity dissolved as quickly as its crescendo had risen. In fact, it seemed all indications of his presence in the countryside dissolved leaving only her image as the singular focus of his intent. He saw her chest rising and falling, but her breaths were shallow and without a normal rhythm. Much like her breaths, her face labored against an unseen foe. But when he touched the side of her cheek gently and slowly with his reassuring fingertips, her face relaxed and her breathing returned to the strong, slow inhalations of sleep. He sat with her, now cradling her head in his arms resting on his lap, her rain-soaked hair spilling into his lap, and gently stroked her cheek until her eyes slowly opened.
“Jaro,” she said weekly, more of a statement than a question as if she knew she would open her eyes and he would be there.
“Yes, I am here Soliana,” he said, causing her to weekly smile.
A short, silent moment passed between them echoing the relief of each other for each other. At its end, Jaro leaned down meeting her lips gently and evenly. As much as it was not a deep kiss of passion, it was a solid kiss of knowledge. As if each had walked through the storms of each other’s lives and had been there to comfort every pain and fill every resulting hole, theirs was a kiss of intimate knowledge of souls. Infinity could have passed and neither would have noticed nor cared, for knowledge of another’s soul was the only measure of immortality holding any influence for them in this moment.
Jaro opened his eyes to the familiar and smiling face of Rhashana. The realism of his dream was quickly fading, but the kiss they shared, even if just part of an imagined reality, promoted within him what he had previously thought was only physical attraction. In that kiss, it was as if they were linked and bonded and understood everything about each other. At least, that is how it felt while he was dreaming. Now, as the moments passed and he adjusted to reality, he wondered if his feelings were nothing more than an induced reaction to the potions Rhashana had him drink. He turned his head to see Soliana.
“Rest easy, Jaro. She will be just fine,” said Rhashana, her voice piercing the low chanting of the other barbarians, easing his concerns for Soliana.
“So, we did it? We managed to find her?” he asked weekly.
“You did it. Though I was concerned, at first, when I was unable to follow your feelings for her into her dreams,” she said.
“What do you mean,” he asked as he tried to sit up, but failed. “My head. Why does it hurt so much? Is this normal?”
“Normal is a relative term. As are all things. Should your head hurt? Yes. But its degree will be reflected by the depth of your dream trance,” she said as she examined him.
“It feels as though my skull will split. As if a mountain was dropped on it but I was not fortunate enough to die,” he said as he reached up to grip his temples.
“You were indeed deeply rooted inside your own dream, Jaro. I was not convinced I could pull you from yours and into hers. Your emotions run deep,” she said.
Remembering Jonsia and his time with her in his dream made him feel guilty about his feelings for Soliana. She had been gone for a long time, but his vow to her lasted beyond her death. Yes, he had been with women since, but they were nothing compared to her and occupied not one part of his heart, for it was completely still Jonsia’s. But was it though? His head hurt too much to further explore his feelings for Soliana at present. “Even thieves feel,” he whispered and closed his eyes.
“For now, rest and regain your strength and bearings. It can be a difficult thing to distinguish between our dream reality and our wakeful reality,” said Rhashana. Seeing that Jaro turned his head to look at Soliana again, she added, “Worry not for her. She will wake soon. When she does, I am sure she will have many questions.”
“That sounds like a good idea. Do you have anything for this headache? It
is pounding like a herd of wild beasts,” he said, closing his eyes.
“I anticipated as much. Here,” she said, handing him yet another small vial of potion. “I mixed this earlier. It should be ready now.”
“Do I have to ask what this will do?”
“It will make you dreamlessly sleep. I am quite sure you have had enough of dreams for now,” she said as she helped him drink the potion.
“Perhaps you are right,” he said as he eased his head down upon the soft, enveloping pillow. But in his heart, he did long to dream again. However, about whom he desired his dreams to center upon was now a source of conflict within him. There was no doubt he still loved Jonsia with the greater portion of his heart. He always would; however, it was not about her his thoughts centered on as the finality of a dreamless sleep consumed him.
He opened his eyes and was momentarily disoriented, which was uncommon for a thief of his experience and skill. Being a thief required and developed some talents that would be considered foreign and unnecessary for most of humanity. One of them was how to instinctively identify where he had laid to rest the previous night. Sure, on the surface, this would seem to be normal for everyone, but most everyone was not a thief and subjected to the common consequence of never spending two nights in the same place in a row. Whereas most people with homes would find no difficulty with correctly understanding where they slept, it was easy for thieves to be momentarily confused in the first few moments following waking up. However, he was no ordinary thief. Yet, even with his experience, waking from the depth of dreamless sleep induced by the potion Rhashana had given him was more than his innate and developed faculties could accept without a portion of disorientation. However, the disorientation he felt was instantly reoriented when he heard her voice.
He shot up in bed, headache free. He found his clothes neatly folded next to his bed on a small night stand. When he looked down, he realized he was completely naked. The events of last night, though he knew them, felt like he was remembering them through a fog. The closer he drew to the object of his vision, the more he was able to see it clearly. And seeing himself standing naked in a small room by himself caused him to draw very close to the memory of Soliana and the events leading up to her rescue. From the other room, he could hear voices, one of which was hers. He finished dressing quickly and walked into the room.
When he entered, he recognized it as the same room he and seen Soliana in while she was laying on the bed naked and unresponsive. His eyes quickly searched for her and found their quarry sitting at the far end of a large circular table. She was dressed in her light, leather armor and listening to Rhashana speak. Sitting with her at the table was the barbarian shaman, Rhashana, and several of the same men who were present last night. There were about ten altogether. When Soliana’s eyes met Jaro’s, for the briefest of moments, he thought he saw her smile. Rhashana stopped speaking when she saw Soliana’s attention divert to behind her. The shaman turned and addressed the thief.
“Jaro, it is well that you have joined us. I was about to tell Soliana the tale of the events after she assisted with saving Nithosa,” she said as she stood to greet him warmly with a hug. “Please, sit and listen.”
“Thank you, Jaro,” added Soliana as she too stood up to embrace him with a gracious and affectionate hug. To Jaro’s surprise, this evoked an instant recollection of their kiss when he was in the Dream Trance so much so that he had to fight back his instinctive reaction to kiss her again.
When they were fully sat, Rhashana addressed Soliana, “My dear, what do you remember of the battle?”
“I remember seeing myself. Not as if I was looking in a mirror at my reflection, nor like I was looking down on myself from a distant place. I remember seeing inside myself and understanding what I am,” she said.
“And what are you, Soliana?” asked Rhashana.
“Hope,” she said.
“Is that all you are? Just the defuse and moveable rendition of desire?”
“No. That is not all. There is more. I understood that while we all have hope, not all of us have belief in that hope. I understood that belief is the substance of the things we hope for. It is the proof that our hopes can and will come true,” she answered.
“And what happens when we possess both hope and belief?” asked the barbarian shaman.
“I cannot explain it any other way except this: the will becomes awakened,” she said.
“And what happens when the will is awakened?” Rhashana probed further.
“Power,” said the blonde warrior with a light lit deep inside her eyes.
“And what would you do with this power?” still the shaman asked.
“I,” she said, but paused. “I will,” she began again, but was still unable to answer this last question. “I do not know,” she finally said.
Rhashana laughed aloud and was joined in by the other barbarians. “Do not look so puzzled, Soliana. You will know what you need to do when you need to do it. I feel you are meant for greater things; but those remain hidden, even from me.”
“Right now, I know I am meant to help the refugees from The Stone Keep find a new place to call their home,” she replied.
“Then set your hope and belief on that, and the rest will be made clear when the time comes. What are your plans?” asked Rhashana.
“I plan to lead them north through the mountain pass,” she answered drawing a silent protest from Jaro.
“North? Are you sure?” asked Chief Nithock.
“I am not sure of much, but I feel north is our only plausible choice,” answered Soliana.
Chief Nithock looked to Rhashana and then to the elder member of the gathered barbarians. “You do know that leads you into the Orc lands? Are you sure that is where you wish to go?”
“I can think of no other option for us. If we stay here, we will be relentlessly pursued by the new rulers of the Stone Keep. But if we are able to make it through the pass, I do not think our pursuit will be continued,” she answered.
“Did you not receive assistance from Tatherton?” asked Chief Nithock.
“That did not go as planned,” answered Jaro.
After a moment of silent consideration, the eldest barbarian spoke in a very deep and raspy voice, but strong nonetheless, “If you seek asylum in the Orc lands, you will need to find other passage. The path through the mountains is blocked.”
“Blocked?” asked Soliana.
“Yes. It has been blocked by a very large landslide from the heavy storms. Our weather whisperers tell us that more storms are on the way,” added Chief Nithock.
Rhashana added, “We would permit you to live with us, but we do not have the capabilities to stand against the forces you say are in your pursuit.”
“I understand Rhashana. But where are we to go now? Is there any other passage close enough to reach before the winter months arrive?” she asked.
“No,” answered the Chief, compassion in his eyes. “There is only one way into the Orc lands from this side of the mountains. You will have to seek refuge elsewhere.”
Breaking the defeated silence, Jaro spoke, “There may be another way.”
“We know of no other way through the mountains. Where is this other way?” asked the barbarian chief.
“Not where, but who,” stated Jaro.
“Who can do this then?” asked Rhashana.
“Dorgo,” said Jaro.
“Dorgo?” repeated Chief Nithock.
“Yes, Dorgo,” answered Jaro.
“Who is he?” asked Soliana.
“The Pirate King,” answered Jaro.
Sogetcho
(Exchange)
I heard horses. Not the leisurely trotting on stone constructed roads either, but the heavy galloping reflecting urgency beyond anything leisure and luxury could produce. My mind naturally raced. Had it been a couple of years ago and I was still working on my father’s farm, my response would have been much different. But since leaving, and especially since meeting Kinarin, my pr
opensity for rationalizing such urgencies as galloping horses to a personally threatening persuasion escalated to the point of reflexive behavior. Judging by the pace and sound of the hooves, I knew I did not have much time. I grabbed my weapons and darted behind the nearest tree hoping the wagon would draw their attention enough for me to launch a well-timed attack of surprise.
The galloping drew close enough for me to hear the horses heavy breathing. I dared not risk a glance lest my position be discovered and I lose the ever-precious element of surprise. The horses halted abruptly, but I did not hear any other noises betraying either the precise location of or how many attackers I faced. I knew there must be more than two, but beyond that, I was not sure. Except for the occasional sorts of the horses, all I heard was silence. Had my attackers deduced my location? Had they dismounted seeking to silently flank my position? I knew if I waiting, my advantage, if I still had one, would become moot very quickly. There was only one choice for me remaining. I had to attack, and attack quickly with deadly precision. I knocked an arrow, breathed deeply and coiled. A second breath and then I sprung from my position and let my feathered death fly.
To my shock and right before I was able to halt my release, I saw it was Kinarin sitting atop one of the horses. My hope screamed before my voice could because I knew my shot was true. It was as if all that existed was my sight and his heart. In an instant of time more brief than the time it took my arrow to travel the distance, I lost whatever shred of humanity and hope I had left. They say the fastest known falcon can dive at speeds exceeding the speed of an arrow, but in that moment, I found my thoughts could travel faster and farther. I saw into the future of my life without Kinarin; and what I saw was loss and lack. I dropped my head and closed my eyes.
“Drin, what are you doing?” I heard his voice say.
In shock, I opened my eyes and was struck deeply as I saw him throw the arrow I had just shot, back at me. Reflexively, I caught it but was left speechless.
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