“Good point, Gish,” Lanico interjected. He flicked another gaze back to Marin who was now even farther away. Rising to stand he said, “Let’s take a moment of time to...to allow this to settle in.”
With all that had been planned and recapped over and over again these past days, there were no objections to a break. Everyone shifted, relaxing as well as they could. The air was cool and misty. They huddled together in the traveling blankets and talked, trying to ease the fear and anxiety from their minds, from their spirits.
Lanico paced over to Marin, who had been mostly silent since his return earlier.
“Marin?” Lanico studied his withdrawn look.
“Lanico, I—” he started, unaware of how to resume.
“Marin, you can feel safe to tell me anything. Is it Anah?” Lanico gave a slight knowing smile. The battle-hardened General was already at ease to discuss other matters of life with the young man.
“What? No. It’s just that...I saw terrible things at the slave encampment.” He lowered his voice even further. “I can’t remove the images. Every time I close my eyes.” Marin looked up, meeting Lanico’s concerned face and continued, “When I saw that Mysra beating a slave, I thought he was going to die. The Mysra was so large and treated him as if he was—as if he was nothing more than a practice figure for training.” Marin grew quiet and looked at the ground below. “And, worse yet…” Marin took a breath, his eyes flicked back up to Lanico’s. “I’ve seen my mother…”
“Your mother?” Lanico pressed.
“She was…” Marin fidgeted with the necklace and in his response, his voice became hushed, “She enjoyed killing that guard. She was smiling and even laughing, while he was dying.” Twisted horror was almost visible in the glow of his eyes. “I’ve never seen such—” Evil, he wanted to say, and from someone he was starting to love so much.
Lanico had never seen that look in Marin, and it worried him deeply. How would he explain Treva to their son? She was a trained Soldier and Knight, and countless had been killed by her hand. She didn’t enjoy killing, no respectable Soldier ever did, but the horror inflicted on her by that specific guard, Nizen...Lanico determined she likely dreamed of killing him thousands of times by now. And this time—in her mind—she had been given the opportunity, and she took it. It’s possible the slave Miken would have died without her interference.
Lanico sighed. He hadn’t considered how Marin would take the realities of Treva, her expertise in killing, the ease of it all. She was a cunning, ruthless fighter. That was the way. That was war. She had been pushed, abused for so many years. “Please understand, Marin, your mother had a different life than yourself. She was raised to be...tough and over the majority of her years had to often defend herself, her family, and the Odana realm from Mysra and other invaders; even if it meant the last resort—killing. She experienced such extreme death and loss that very few understand and the only way for her to survive was to adapt.” He trailed. He didn’t know how to explain this. Sensing worry in Marin and perhaps fear of his mother, Lanico quickly added, “But, once we take back the castle, your mother will finally get to enjoy peace. You will know her warm heart better then. I’ve had the privilege to know her for a great length of time. She has a wonderful, delightful, good spirit, Marin. You’ll come to see this as well.”
“That’s another thing.” Marin shifted. “I don’t know that we’re ready to take back the castle after what I encountered down there.”
It was as if a siren’s wail sounded in Lanico’s head. He flinched at that, “What?” He turned to face his son squarely, his voice a different level of stern. “Marin, you don’t know what you’re saying.”
“It’s just that the Mysra are so large and the area they cover is so large. We are so few. I’m the only one who hasn’t had to fight to survive.” So many things to worry about, his head was a flurry of fear and doubt.
Lanico straightened and his serious glare bore into Marin. His eyebrows lowered and his glowing blue eyes noticeably narrowed on the boy and, in that instant, Marin realized he had touched a raw nerve. The young man leaned away slightly, readying for the reply.
Lanico’s voice was a low, controlled rumble, “Understand, for years, I have allowed my people to be tortured and enslaved without coming to their aid. Your mother, Anah, and countless others have suffered under my lack of involvement and under my watch, under what was to be my responsibility.” His voice rose and distant sets of glowing eyes shifted, widened in their direction. “By the grace of Odan, I have been allowed another chance.”
Marin ignored the lingering stares from the others.
“Marin, we have no choice but to move forward. I put these thoughts of failure behind me! I’ve reached a point of brokenness and now the time has come for me to turn this atrocity around and to take back the castle, the responsibility, and the position! For far too long now my people—our—people have suffered. Don’t you understand—?” Marin’s eyes widened, “Your people, Marin, have suffered. Your mother, Anah... Moving forward is the only way! It’s the only way to take back what belongs to me—what belongs to you! Our legacy. The time is now, the Mysra are limited in number and we must strike, taking our advantage with a fast grip.”
Marin remained silent.
The golden glow of Treva’s eyes bounded closer, obviously having heard their voices.
Marin felt heat flush from his neck to his cheeks. Pain groaned in his gut. He felt himself cave at the thought of this, his mother, Anah. The ground was the only thing steady for him in this moment. Lanico, was right. They had to move forward. How many countless other Anahs, Likas, and Trevas were down there suffering?
Lanico rose. He stood for only a moment and breathed trying to regain control of his emotions. He had been fighting these demons of guilt and abandonment for so long now, planning over and over the reclaiming. His mind rampant with thoughts of both victory and loss. Weighing every possibility, again and again. His heart and mind have been committed to this. He was not about to let Marin’s immature fear set root in him as well. He did not need to hear this, and at this late hour. His words were not beneficial.
Then, a snap of a twig in the wrong direction, from farther behind.
Chapter 19
For you, it has always been, yes
Lanico turned to see a set of glowing eyes staring in their direction. He hadn’t realized he raised his voice enough to draw attention. He made a sharp sigh, then walked off into the dense trees. Treva took steps toward his path, but he wearily waved her off saying that he needed to have some time to himself. She could tell his nerves were raw, that he needed to calm himself.
Treva cast her gaze to Marin and took small steps nearing him. Compared to Lanico, he was a smaller figure, blanketed alone in moonlight. As she approached, she noticed tears welling in his lambent violet eyes. He was reluctant to meet her gaze and then, she understood; he may have been fearful of time alone with her. Something inside her chest cracked at the realization. It was true, he was due for an outright railing from his stunt earlier, but worse than that, he had seen her act in a way that she never intended. He had seen her kill. Instead railing, she astonished herself, saying in the softest tone imaginable, “Marin, my precious son...it’ll be alright.”
He gave a look that reminded her, somewhere behind his young man form and sharp features, of that infant she held so very long ago. Treva pulled her son into herself heartily. It was already well into the night. At the base of a thick tree, they lowered side-by-side, to sit on the cool of the earth beneath.
It was a pleasant surprise that he confided in her. With a thick voice, he explained to her that he didn’t mean to upset Lanico. That he regretted haphazardly casting his fears and doubts onto him.
“You know, Lanico has been a great, legendary General for a staggering number of years. He has witnessed and partaken in countless battles and skirmishes all over many lands. Scattered over time, he has had his fair share of doubt.” She paused turning from her w
aist to look at him. Her eyes met his. She swiped a few of his black tendrils from his face. “He will be alright. Trust when I say that he has weathered far more than the likes of you.” She gave a sly smile, a smile that when returned didn’t quite reach Marin’s eyes. Right. There was the other matter to address.
She’d seen the horror in his face, when she... She sighed. He shouldn’t have seen that, and she determined that she may as well come out with it. “Marin, I realize you’ve witnessed terrible things—things even by my own hand. If you’re worried, well, I ask that you please trust it will be alright. That guard…” She stopped short, perhaps she couldn’t explain after all. How could she? She turned away from Marin, placing her back against the tree, and fidgeted her fingers. Her eyes now roaming the distance.
Marin had heard the things that the Mysra guard had said to her; had been wise enough to reach the horrendous conclusion on his own. “It’s alright, Mother,” He remained turned to her and said at her hesitation. She met his gaze again, “There is no need for you to explain.” Reading her features, he reached to squeeze her busied hand. “It’s alright,” he repeated, looking into her eyes with sincerity beyond his years.
Fully turned, she pulled him in, embracing him. Once more taking him into herself.
He felt her arms were firm, smooth. Arms, hands, capable of atrocious, terrible things, but they were also, warm—capable of beautiful, loving things. Of a mother’s splendid tenderness. And he felt himself completely relax in their hold.
✽✽✽
Later, Treva walked through the wet grass looking for the familiar azure glow. Her toes were numb. Her worn leather boots had been soaked through, allowing in the cool wet. She wanted to take them off and cast them aside to stave off the setting chill, but she hated the feel of grass against her bare feet. So, she left them on and rubbed her arms vigorously instead. Her eyes continued darting, searching for him until... Spotted. She could make out his muscled silhouette, silvery from the moonlight and lowered before boulders. He was in a meditation, or a prayer. Regardless, she didn’t want to disturb him. She stopped her approach and turned.
“Tre?” His acute hearing pricked. Slivers of his azure glow opened.
“Yes, Lan,” she said quietly, still a distance away. She added quickly, “I don’t want to disturb you. Please continue.” She twisted at her fingers and turned.
“No, it’s alright. I’m finding it hard to concentrate, especially with the conversation I had with Marin.” His voice was quiet. “He has doubts about tomorrow. He doesn’t understand the importance of this. His words were so…” He swallowed. “They hurt, Tre.” Throughout his years, he had heard far worse from others in court, in battles and war fields, but coming from his own son. He slowly stood, his expression hinted at an unseen wound and the resulting pain now staring toward her.
Treva shifted her weight a bit. The issue of her breach was now trampled by yet another concern. “I spoke with him as well. Lan, as you understand, Marin is young, foolish even. He should not have said what he did. He told me he regrets it now.” She paused before taking steps closer. “Lan, you’re not only his father, but you’ve been the boy’s only confidant. It’s only natural for him to want to unburden himself of the feelings that were tearing at him. He just chose a ridiculous time—”
Lanico huffed a hint of a laugh at that.
She was pleased that what she said brought him some level of comfort, but confusion washed over her face.
“No,” he chuckled low understanding her expression, “He just reminds me of his birth father, Izra. Of his ridiculous timing.”
Treva’s face carved a wry expression remembering her late husband, Lanico’s best friend. “Yeah, his timing was the worst.”
“And you.” His gaze softened upon her. She was mesmerizing. He felt that all his world of problems could end, somewhere with merely looking into her eyes. Their connection…it was quickly becoming an addiction. “I could have never imagined just how wonderful—I knew you’d be a wonderful mother, but this?” He placed a few steps toward her. “Coming here to check on me after talking to him. All the lovely endowments you have as a mother, a friend, and my Knight.” As mine… As in the dream of making you my wife. He said in their shared way. “I know, it may seem unusual for me to admit, but thinking of us, after taking back the throne...it’s what keeps me moving forward. The thought of us—” He continued in their gaze, “Wedding, rebuilding, perhaps...” His eyes now bored into hers and he could hear her heart pace faster, “Adding to our small family... The idea of forever.”
Treva’s smile brightened at the tender shivers his unspoken words gave her. Her golden glowing eyes narrowed in on his as he drew closer. Looking up at him, she responded, “Forever.” “It sounds irresistible—being together always,” she voiced smoothly.
The deep reverberations of his voice, the warmth of his neck as he pulled her in. He circled his arms around her muscle-girded waist. “I know that may sound silly.” She felt him place his chin atop her head. “I can see it, almost as if it was taking place. The ancestral silver and jewels adorning your emerald hair and glistening from the sun-shined windowpanes. A long dress that trails all the way back toward the entrance. I could even see you worrying your lower lip; as you are doing at this moment.” A habit he could never grow weary of.
“You know that?” Treva laughed slightly against him. Her eyes turned into crescents. That wonderful scent from his warm neck made her joints feel weak.
“I just know you that well.” He smiled, leaning down to brush his lips against her scar. His heart, now quickened, feeling her so close, pressed against him. He lowered to kiss the base of her neck, her angled jaw, her ear. His body heated her cooled skin. His hands tightened around her.
She heard herself make a slight groan. A sound that threatened, once again, to undo him completely. He pressed his lips against hers harder, a glowing ember of passion now igniting. Kissing, crushing the worries of tomorrow away. Losing, death, chasing away the nightmares that had played out in their minds over these many years, then the possibility of it all unfolding, tomorrow.
Would it be enough—the planning, the waiting, the hope in freedom? Regaining the land, the title, the throne destined for him and him alone, tomorrow.
Here, away from everyone. She felt him let it all go. He had to.
His mind, now, wrapped around her, the future with her. His other hand slid from the small of her back and curved over her bottom. He squeezed.
Another moan trying to speak, but the words muffled against his mouth, his tongue. “Lan.” She pulled away, inhaling sharply. “I must go.” Working to regain her breath, her composure. “Please resume.” She jerked her head to where he had been just moments ago, and backed away, allowing his hands to slowly break free from her. “We’re to wait.” Cold greeted her waist, her buttock, her chest—all the places where his warmth, his body had been.
“For how long, Tre?” He realized his voice sounded impatient but he didn’t care. He loved her more than his very life and feeling her was so... “What if—what if one of us should…” No, he couldn’t finish that question. Instead, he took a breath. She turned to take a step, but he took her hand, keeping her there. He looked into her eyes. “Marry me.”
Her heart skipped. “Lan, once you’re on the throne. All will be safe then.” She knew his concern. It was the same as hers. She had been a slave. She, more than anyone, knew how important reclaiming the throne was. The risk they were to take...
Still, staring at her with his pleading cyan glow. “Yes,” she finally answered him in their connected gaze. “For you, it has always been, yes.” She smiled and tucked loose strands of hair behind her ear. His heart lightened. His hand fell from hers as she turned once more to walk away. She said over her shoulder, “Pray for a swift victory, Lan, while I get started on readying our camp for sleep. Remember, just one more night before victory.” Her smile at him gleamed.
With late evening setting in, he lowered
back down to pray, to meditate. Instead of focusing on prayers to Odan for victory, he found himself praying that she would never have to know violence again. He prayed for her to be his—to be completely his. For their wedding. For their union. For their forever.
✽✽✽
It was late, but the kitchen door flew, slamming open.
Grude jumped in startlement upon his stool, just as Cantata stormed in. She was about to ready a late meal for Grude as previously discussed. These days he felt solace in the kitchen. He had been quietly waiting for her, deep in thought about them—about whatever it was growing between them when Cantata furiously stomped in.
Her breathing hard; her gaze landed and then focused on the chopping board. She grabbed a fistful of previously chopped nuts, and squeezed them in her hand before hurling them at the wall. Nuts exploded in a shower everywhere, sprinkling a speckled mess about the place.
“Cantata! What has gotten into you?” Grude stood. The chair loudly scraped against the floor.
The Legacy of Lanico: Return of the Son: Book two of the Legacy of Lanico series Page 18
