Nature's Master (The Nature Mage Series Book 4)
Page 41
Unbidden, a memory sprang to mind, of Rhetta lying dead on the ground, a knife protruding from her chest. He pushed it away, trying to think of anything else, but it kept intruding on his thoughts. He screwed his eyes shut and gritted his teeth, terrified of the feelings that memory awoke in him. It had haunted him for over fifteen years, and always he had sought distraction at the bottom of a bottle. But there was no bottle this time, no foe to fight, no maiden to save. He was alone with his thoughts.
Groaning he rocked back and forth, his head in his hands. Where could he go from here? After all his running, he’d finally come to a dead end. “Help…” he moaned to no-one in particular, a desperate plea cast into the ether.
Another memory came to mind, this time of a figure of light – an all-powerful being – bringing Emmy back from the dead. Ever so slowly he became aware of a presence, steadying him, comforting him. It didn’t dispel the pain, but it brought him back from the brink.
Remember…
In his mind’s eye, Jonn saw himself rising from the forest floor, his head throbbing. His eyes sprung open in alarm. He couldn’t go there. Anywhere but there.
Remember…
Braving himself, Jonn closed his eyes once more. Rhetta lay unmoving, a knife protruding from her chest, and before him stood the men who’d killed her. Seized by a berserker rage, Jonn had attacked them. They’d tried to run, but he’d chased them down and slaughtered them one by one. He’d stumbled back to Rhetta’s body, the reality of her death sinking in. Something had snapped in him and, driven mad by grief, Jonn had fled into the forest.
Jonn opened his eyes, which were awash with stinging tears. “Why take me back there?” he demanded. “I lost everything that day.”
There was a pause. Who wielded the knife?
The knife that killed Rhetta. For some reason, Jonn found that he didn’t want to answer.
Who wielded the knife?
Still Jonn resisted, reluctant to acknowledge the glaring truth. “One of the robbers,” he said at last.
It was not you.
“It might as well have been!” Jonn cried, bitterness rising like acid in his throat. “I was a trained soldier. How could I fail to hear a drunkard creeping up behind me? If I’d kept my wits about me, Rhetta would still be alive. She would be my wife and Gaspi would have a mother and father.”
Adela is your wife and Gaspi has a father.
Jonn’s breath came hoarsely. He began to see where this was going. For so long, he had been bowed down not only by grief but by guilt. It had shaped him into the man he had become.
It was not your fault.
Tears started at the corners of Jonn’s eyes. It was his fault. He’d been atoning for it ever since the day Rhetta died, though he knew it was hopeless. Never had he dreamed of absolution.
Before him he saw two paths, one leading to the breakdown of his marriage, the loss of your friends, to loneliness and an early death. The other led to the life he had never allowed himself to live. He was at the fork in the road.
Release the burden of guilt. It was never yours to carry.
Jonn could hardly believe he had such a choice.
What do you choose?
Jonn hesitated. Dare he say it? He swallowed noisily and opened his mouth to speak. The words were on his lips, ready to spill forth. He quashed the last of his resistance. “It wasn’t my fault.”
A great wave of relief flooded him and Jonn began to sob. The presence surrounding him intensified, comforting him as he wept. Love flowed through him, healing the self-inflicted wounds of many years. Suddenly everything was clear – this misery he fell back into, that he was never free from, was a prison of his own making, but now the bars were falling away. He could walk free.
It wasn’t his fault! What a thought! Guilt was nothing but a burden. A burden that had nearly killed him.
How long he remained there he couldn’t have said, but when he rose to his feet he felt like a new man.
Go…live.
Jonn smiled, wiping the tears from his face. “Thank you,” he whispered, and as he walked back to the house, he felt lighter of being than he had ever dreamed possible.
…
Jonn was greeted by silence as he opened the door to the cottage. It was early, and for a moment he thought Adela might still be abed, but then he heard the clink of a pot. He padded through to the kitchen and found her standing at the sink with her back to him. She was staring out the window, washing a pot absent-mindedly. Jonn slunk up behind her and slid his arms around her waist, making Adela gasp. He nuzzled her hair and kissed her neck, and she leaned back into him with a soft murmur of surprise. After a moment she turned around and searched his gaze.
“Jonn…?”
He smiled. Adela always knew. “It’s over.”
Her eyes widened as she looked into his own. He saw joy blossom in her clear blue irises, but it was tentative, careful. “You’re okay?”
Jonn’s smile broadened. His doubts wouldn’t disappear overnight but something in him had changed and a new future lay ahead of him. He understood himself at last, and knew the pitfalls he had to avoid in future. There was no going back. “I’m okay.”
Adela let out a quiet cry of amazement. She placed her hands on his cheeks and kissed him soundly. He kissed her back, able at last to give her the love she deserved. It flowed freely through his arms, his hands, his lips, and Adela gave a sharp intake of breath, twisting her hands into his shirt. At long last, he could be the man he’d always wanted to be but had never dared to become. Love’s words echoed in his mind as he lifted her from her feet and carried her to the bedroom.
Go…live.