by Dan Gillis
his face where the sting lingered.
He was not sure what he was feeling. After all these years since the war he thought he understood her and now this. His studies had drawn him away from all others but her. Only in her had he confided the deepest desires of his heart. Their relationship had passed beyond mere familiar bonds. No, parting was especially painful for him now on the eve marking the summit of all his aspirations as a Master in the Order. The tetsu had been through so many trials and triumphs, and feelings. From broken memories of over a year ago, upon the snowy climbs of Racur, he felt he suddenly had met her for the first time. Since then she had grown into such a beautiful young woman, now of eighteen years, blossoming into full allure. He had to leave, for many reasons, for he dared not violate the strictest code which existed between Mihyl and Jyril. The last year had been difficult for him, to stay focused upon his studies while thinking on her endlessly. When the call came from the Wilders to fulfill his oath, his mind rejoiced and his heart broke.
Her chest was heaving up and down. Her training robes hung loose about her shoulders. Her hair was tossed about by a gentle breeze. He turned to leave, sensing danger lurking within the dammed lake of emotion in his soul.
“Wait … Zyr. I shouldn’t have …” As her arm touched his, a charge coursed through his body, stronger than any she could have woven. He struggled to maintain a crumbling mental fortress. He turned to gaze into Tehsa’s eyes; the light brown hue glowed softly in the noon-day sun. Her face was close to his, peering upward into the taller man’s gaze. “I know I can’t force you to stay … I also know why you have avoided me recently. Ever since Racur, you have changed. I know it’s my fault for everything I said to you then. Even if your mind can’t remember my pleas, your heart does.” Her pale skin started to redden slightly. His heart skipped a beat as she moved to find his other arm. “I won’t let you escape from me without giving you a token of remembrance.” Zyr’s guts clenched in knots and twisted inside him violently. All his training screamed out at him, all the dire warnings raged and all the logic moved to bolster his resolve. It was too late; the dam had burst into pieces.
Almost mystically their lips had met, mingling upon sweetened brushes of desire. Both held their breath in a surge of fervor, embracing each other passionately while sailing upon the tide of emotion. Zyr was about to drown happily in her waters when a lingering remnant of sense stabbed through his passion. He pulled himself from her caressing arms and withdrew a pace. Tehsa stood there, visibly moved and perturbed. Zyr tried to speak, but every attempt was in vain. Finally, he ran from her, charging through high fields of grain, running scared of himself and what may have been. Tehsa stood for a moment and then sunk to her knees. Her head bowed low and all was silent but the wind moving through the grass and her long hair.
All is moving now around me. A strange sensation is coming over me. All the color is turning to blackness. Suddenly there is only one image shrouded by all the black. She is before me, beside me, all around me. All I see is her. Her face is burned upon every facet of my memory and her breath, her lips, they call to me from the depths of the consuming darkness.
“Zyr?”
Hidden Truths
THE SUN lit upon the glistening spires of Syrion. Each slender pinnacle rose upward struggling to reach the stars. Their height was unimaginable; their beauty breathtaking. The view from the highest point of the tallest spire always stirred Toryn. He stared out at the massive city which was the country’s capital. Beneath the towers were various constructs; homes, guilds, industries, schools of thought all filled in the area below. It was always invigorating for him to take in all his subjects and their holdings. Far past the horizon toward the east, his country spanned to Tamers Reach. The mountains shielded his country from the fell wastelands beyond. Little accounts emerged from beyond the barren waste, but horrific rumours abounded. Toryn turned his gaze to the sea which also expanded past the horizon. How he wished at times that the burden of leading a country would ease, and that he could pursue his heart’s desires upon the solitary sea.
A flash of light from below caught in his peripheral vision. “I knew it wouldn’t last.” Sighing heavily, Toryn stood and stretched his large frame. For a king there was no time for rest, especially in troubled times. He started down the steps which wound round the outside of the spire. There was little to hang on to in the descent, but he was accustomed to the path. Pushing his foolish whims behind him, Toryn set his mind to other matters. Finally he descended into the council chamber. As he walked through the gilded doors, a man in eloquent robes of deep blue approached the king hurriedly. Toryn noted that his face was set with worry.
“My Lord, many thanks for answering the summons. The High Council has just arrived from Jandor, and there are pressing matters to attend to.” The chancellor was wringing his hands and fidgeting as he stood before Toryn. The King knew that the news would be unwelcome. He had already felt the doom in the nightmare that shook his subconscious mind. Another Defiler guild had cinched power over another of the old traditional guilds. Sadly, the news was far too late. Trouble was stirring in Kenhar, and the young monarch could not evade it nor even stop it. Darkness was spreading like a disease across the land. The people would never be informed. It was better to let them live out the remainder of their lives in peaceful bliss. Perhaps that explained his wanderlust of late. The prospect of opposing the unstoppable was overwhelming and wearisome. He put a hand to his head and massaged his temple gently.
“Let us proceed as quickly as possible; time is working against us now.” He moved down the corridor swiftly, the chancellor stepping in a pace behind him. The doors of the inner sanctum swung open with a dull clanking sound which echoed in the hall. All the High Council was seated and heads turned to Toryn. Every minute required action and the evil must be resisted even if it was a useless gesture. The king of Kenhar moved slowly into the room and to the Head of the Council’s chair. “Shall we begin?”
Shien’s eyes bolted open. It was still early morning and he found himself in the soft hay of a stable loft where both he and the girl had collapsed earlier. He had used this location before and in his wounded and weary state he had to rest. Many thoughts buzzed through his mind which refused him the sleep he desperately needed. The girl sleeping beside him was a mystery; quietly he leaned over and stared at her. The light was low where they were, and the sun would soon peek over the Tamers Reach. He considered for the first time her youthful beauty. Despite being soiled from last evening’s exploits, her cheeks were illuminated slightly, and reaching out to remove the hair from her face he found her skin creamy smooth and warm. The dark brown hair spilled around her shoulders, and lay loose upon the golden straw. She breathed in slowly, her forehead furrowed and her hands clenched. She began to shift and whimpered in her sleep. Shien was astounded that this seemingly unassuming girl could be so brutally lethal only hours ago. It was terrifying and yet there were other questions as well. How did she know to throw the stone at that moment and with such accuracy? Her resolve was so sure, so much unlike the trembling youth he bumped into (literally). She became so cold and calculating, and what disturbed him further was when she was in that state, he could get no reading from her emotionally. It was as if she became another person altogether.
Her eyes flicked open and she caught him looking at her. She sat up quickly and instinctively moved her arms to her shirt as to cover herself. She fidgeted with the buttons while shooting an accusing glare at him, her brow furrowed. The shirt was smattered in a foul substance and dirt from combat, but it was done up, as was his clothing. She bit her lower lip suspiciously and looked silently upon Shien. After staring at her for a moment he broke the silence in the loft.
“So nervous … this is hardly a fair assessment of the person who stuck his neck out and saved your life back there.” He shifted as to move slightly away from her. The young girl seemed to ease a bit at the gesture. Her brow smoothed out and her body relaxed. Shien could tell that
she was feeling a mixture of many emotions. Some were understandable: disgust, fear, uncertainty. However, something else was mixed into her sea of sentiments, something that wove through it all, but it was impossible to tell. She carefully regarded him and shifted her legs together underneath her. “It’s a funny thing …”he began suddenly, “I don’t know what to call you.” She was silent for a moment.
“I should say it’s a funny thing,” the girl began, “you’ve called me many things already …” Her voice lowered into a near whisper as she finished her thought.
“Can you blame me if I get a little anxious in a fight?” Shien was not about to feel guilty for anything. “Besides, what possessed you to run around looking for help after curfew; you know where the Watch tower is, don’t you?” He knew she could question his violation of the civil code as well, but his reasons were personal and he had prepared meticulously for last night’s operation. Almost subconsciously, his hands slid over to his pack, and comfortingly he felt the objects within.
“I’m not from around here. I come from Lenhir, to the south east. The name’s Firah.” She said the last part with some trepidation; she still did not trust him completely.
“Shien.” He produced a small smile and groaned out as he rubbed a sore shoulder. It would require looking at by a physician. “I’ve heard of Lenhir. Wonderful ale …”
“Oh, that’s right, Tohm … Zyr!” She started to get up but struggled against cramped muscles. Finally, she gained her feet and began descending the ladder to the ground.
“Are you out of your mind?” He said to her as she stepped gingerly down each rung. “Those magi weren’t all that belong to their cursed guild. They are still roaming about out there!” He started to move down the ladder, and then remembering suddenly reached and snatched his pack and then continued downward. Each step was painful and he nearly stumbled.
“My friend still needs my help … he could be hurt or even dead!” She was hurriedly fixing herself up, but it was in vain. Both of them were a sight and Shien knew that they would draw undue attention and questions if they were seen. He reached out and grabbed her arm roughly.
“Would you just stop and think about this!”
She snapped her head around to meet his troubled face.
“First of all, there are going to be more magi stalking around out there. Second, you think anyone will help you when you look like that?!” he emphasized his argument by pointing to her garments which were a mix match of dried substances. “Finally, how do you think your friends would feel if you turn up dead?” Her resolve ebbed with every stinging piece of logic that he forced upon her. Her shoulders sagged and her head slowly dropped down. Finally, Firah slumped down onto a small wooden bench and put her hands to her face. Shien could feel the waves of emotion cascading inside her. At times he wished he could ignore that intuitive ability.
Her voice came ragged and broken. “It’s just that I … He asked me to …” She sniffed and let tears fall amongst the hay strewn across the floor. He could tell that there was more than just the concern for a friend tormenting her. He fixed his gaze upon the sheathed dagger, secured upon her belt. He moved to sit down beside her and put a hand on her shoulder. She did not shy away but continued to sob quietly.
“I can imagine how you feel … We can move in a couple of hours when curfew lifts. We’ll get washed up at the rain barrel just outside, and then cover ourselves with those horse blankets over there.” Her head lifted up and she looked at him gratefully. Tear trails streaked through the dirt on her face. “It’s the best I can do; I wish I could do more …” He was mildly surprised at his response. He typically used those words to win over a woman, but they couldn’t be more genuine. There was a significant passage of time when neither spoke but sat in silence.
Firah broke the respite. “Do you want to know the true reason I followed you?” Her head did not move; she merely studied a part of the hay-strewn floor. Shien thought he knew but now he wasn’t so sure. He nodded his head quietly. Firah continued her confession, sighing slowly and staring out into the dissipating darkness. “I remember when you were upset after killing that man … that necromancer.” Shien’s stomach twinged with the reminder. “You mentioned something about a dark demon. I want to know what you meant about that.” Her voice was a little shaky and quivered subtly with fear. Shien’s heart now beat against his chest harshly, and his mind lapsed from a vivid memory. He glanced down at Firah, who was now looking at him intently. “You know what I speak of,” she spoke softly, “I can see the same fear in your eyes that exists in my heart.”
Shien stood up quickly and rubbed a hand through his blond hair which flowed free across his neck. His eyes twitched toward her and away again. He had tried desperately to forget everything about that blasted demon! Though it had been just been one night - one dream - the memories had attached themselves to his very soul. He thought at times his mind would burst in sheer terror. She knew about that as well as he? He paced the floor trying to sort out his thoughts. His sanity recoiled at the prospect of reliving such horrid events, but he had to talk it out. He didn’t know why he trusted her either, after only a few hours of acquaintance. Perhaps encounters with mortality created powerful bonds between people.
“It’s only happened a couple times, all in the last six months.”
She nodded her head in affirmation which gave him a strange sense of security … he wasn’t insane after all. Yet, something needed to be sorted out.
“I can’t describe it … something like terrifying darkness, alive and growing … still it is more than horrifying it’s … it’s … ” he paused for words.
“It’s like being seduced or enticed.”
Shien’s throat constricted; that was exactly what it was like. Perhaps that was the most disturbing element. He could handle fear and entrapment, but this was far beyond the scope of those feelings. He walked over to a stall of a workhorse, whose occupant nickered softly. He reached up and stroked its neck absently. She stood and walked slowly to his side and greeted the massive beast. Shien’s felt full of tension and he stared intently into memory. He was deathly quiet and rigid. The same terror she recited unnerved him and the memory gnawed at his conscious mind. Now bereft of any ego, he stood open as a book before her. He turned a frantic stare to her.
“How can you be so calm now? The very thought of those dreams cast a pale of dread across my mind so great that I can’t remember hope or happiness.” His voice trembled. “Perhaps it’s the feeling of helplessness … I don’t know.” He turned back to the stallion. “I can’t talk about this anymore.” Upon feeling her consternation, he quickly added, “At least not right now. We can talk again later … this evening seems a difficult burden to handle.” She nodded. After a moment he turned back toward her.
Her unlikely rescuer turned a cool gaze upon her which made her feel a little uncomfortable. In the growing light she could make out his features better. Shoulder length blond hair and piercing grey eyes. His build was wiry and firm. He wore a strangely embroidered leather jacket and breeches. Her assessment was detracted with all the grime crusted along his arms and across his body. Despite the twinging of her cautious heart, she admitted that he was not quite the boor she had made him out to be the previous night; he did seem gentle now. Who could understand men anyway? She rubbed her brooch absently. What would happen to them now? When the morning broke she would have to make for the merchant gate to contact Tohm. She had so much to tell him, and he was liable to tan her for a solid week. Shien’s voice interrupted her musing.
“I think it’s fair that you answer a question of mine now?” She looked at him guardedly and considered for a moment what the question might be. Eventually, good sense won the conflict in her mind; he had certainly earned her favour the previous night. Firah nodded in affirmation. “Thank you for your trust. What I have been puzzling over all night is your connection to that.” He pointed to her hip. She looked down in confusion and gazed upon her belt where her kn
ife was secured. It was her turn to be puzzled.
“What’s so odd about a common knife?” she asked incredulously. Was he feeling alright? His expression was certainly one of utter bewilderment.
“What are you saying girl? There is nothing common about that blade. It’s as black as midnight and was the cause of all my troubles. It gave me a nasty shock when I first found it. As soon as you took it from my pack you were doing things that … well made me shudder.”
Firah gaped in utter amazement. He must have hit his head in the fight. She had been there at the battle, but she simply watched her rescuer hack the guard to pieces with his sword. It was he that did all the killing, not her.
“Look … I don’t know what had possessed you to link me to anything that happened last night. I saw you kill all those men. I’m grateful for your help.” Her leg shifted backward instinctively. Shien closed his eyes and ran his hands through his hair and then pressed his fingers to his forehead, massaging the area. ‘He is strange’ she thought, ‘completely out of his mind.’
“Okay … okay. Listen. I’m going to talk through what happened, okay? First, you nearly got strangled by that zombie Watchman. I couldn’t bear to watch you get killed so I charged in … right?” She murmured in agreement and waited. “Okay, next we had a discussion while I was fighting (Firah scowled at the memory). I asked you for help and threw you my pack.” Shien’s fingers gripped tightly around the straps of the pack he now wore. He seemed never to be far from the pack.
