The Redemption of Wist Boxed Set: Books 1 - 3: The complete collection

by David Gilchrist

  Her face wore a look of incomprehension. She looked at the Lyrat, desperate for answers. ‘Who … who are …?’ her words faltered on her lips, then she buried her head on Tyla’s shoulder and released her grief. Wist sat like an unwanted onlooker again.

  Once Aviti’s initial outpouring had ceased, she lifted her head, her body lying against Tyla’s broad frame. ‘I am sorry. It is all too much. I do not know how to bear it. I have lost everything. How can I go on?’

  ‘Tell us what you have seen whilst you slept,’ said Tyla. ‘To contain such pain is not natural.’

  She spent a moment considering Tyla’s words and then she agreed with a slight inclination of her head. She pushed herself clear of Tyla and so, not wishing to intrude, Wist turned to walk away to the far end of the cave where Faric still rested, despite the commotion.

  ‘Stay Wist,’ said Aviti. His name sounded awkward on her lips. ‘If I am to tell this, I shall only be able to tell it once. And I think you should bear witness.’

  Wist returned to where he had been resting, and waited for her to begin. She sat and stared at the cave wall.

  ‘Can you recall what happened at the burial grounds?’ prompted the Lyrat.

  ‘I remember the fight beginning. Then the darkness moved for us. I felt that I should just give up. “Let it take me” I thought. I had nothing left to fight for. The dagger you gave me slipped from my hands as if I had not the strength to grip it.’

  Tyla revealed the dagger, returned to its place on his belt. Her mother’s staff sat beside Aviti now, returned by the Lyrat.

  ‘Then, an anger rose in me,’ she continued. ‘It was like nothing I have ever felt before. It was as if something had been rent within me and beyond it was a lake of burning rage and hatred.’

  She paused and wiped the tears from her eyes. ‘After that, I remember dreaming of my mother. This was unlike any dream I have ever had. I could feel the wind on my skin. The colours all around were so vivid.

  ‘It was before I was born, a long time before. She was with my father, but they were many years younger. They fought amongst other men and women; battling fell creatures. Fire poured from my mother, though she was not ablaze; she was the source of the fire: it spouted from her.

  ‘Then I was back at my father’s farm.’ Aviti swallowed as she fought back the tears. ‘It was just after we had left. Cairn sat alone outside our home as he waited for the townspeople.’

  Apprehension grew in Wist as he listened to Aviti’s tale, but nothing he could say or do would alter its path, so he sat and listened.

  ‘Please continue,’ urged Tyla.

  ‘The mob drew up to our farm,’ she said after a moment. ‘They were led by a huge man. Bigger even than Cairn. I could not make him out clearly. It was as if I saw him through the haze of his own fury.

  ‘This man shouted, though I could hear neither what he said, nor Cairn’s reply. The mob strained for release, but the leader held them back. He seemed angry, furious even, at my brother’s words. Slowly, he started toward Cairn and our house.’ She paused for a moment, her lips trembled and her eyes filled with fresh tears.

  ‘As he took a step, the people flooded forward, running past this brute and heading for the house. Cairn stood up to face them; my father’s weapons lay where he had been seated.

  ‘They poured on top of him: beating, tearing, gouging. He never stood a chance. They slaughtered him like one of our animals, leaving the entrance to our house coated in his blood. They left him there and swept into the house like a plague of vermin after the autumn rains.

  ‘That awful man, the one who had led them there, stood and watched it all. He never smiled, never moved. He just stood and waited.

  ‘The last thing I saw was his face as he turned to see flames rise from the city behind him. Though I looked straight at him, he could not see me.’

  Her tears flowed freely once more. She must have known deep in her heart that she would never see her brother again, but to witness his brutal killing, after everything she had endured today, was too much. Wist yearned to ease her torment.

  ‘You could not have stopped them, had you been there,’ said Tyla.

  ‘This is my fault,’ wailed Aviti. ‘I…I mentioned Wist to a friend whist visiting their farm. I made a joke about him; how he had lost his mind. We had laughed about it.’ She broke down in fresh waves of tears, her shoulders heaving with the effort.

  ‘None of this is your fault, Aviti,’ said Wist. ‘It is mine.’

  ‘Do not console me with hollow words!’ shouted Aviti through her weeping. She bristled with anger now. ‘You are who you are. You cannot change that. I took you in and I accept the consequences.’

  Wist went to reply, but Tyla cut him off with a gesture. ‘There are forces at work here we do not comprehend.

  ‘You have been through much,’ the Lyrat continued, addressing Aviti, ‘and we must move once night has fallen. The tribes have moved faster than we had anticipated. Get some rest, both of you.’

  ‘Please do not leave me alone,’ pleaded Aviti, exhaustion and fear evident on her face. ‘I cannot stand to be alone tonight. I do not know what is happening to me.’ Tyla agreed to stay with a nod of his head and sat down beside her. It would be many hours before she finally succumbed to the physical needs of her body and fell asleep. Wist found no rest that day. He stared at the cave’s jagged wall, as the light from the mouth of the cave grew brighter.

  --*--

  Wist started as Faric rose from his bedroll. Dusk was upon them and the light from the cave’s entrance was fading. As one Lyrat went to tend to the horses, the other rose from his resting place near to Aviti.

  ‘Stay with her,’ Tyla instructed Wist.

  The cave was growing dark and cool. The evening’s fresher air flowed into the cave, carrying the sweet earthy scent of the desert to Wist. How he had never noticed this before?

  As Tyla moved away, Aviti stirred. Her eyes flicked open, free from the terror of earlier, but its ghost lingered, awaiting the chance to return.

  ‘Where am I?’ she asked Wist.

  ‘We are safe,’ he replied. ‘At least for the time being. Do you remember waking earlier?’

  ‘Yes,’ her voice sounded frail and unsure, ashamed of her grief. ‘I just do not know where I am. Or how I got here.’

  She looked about the cave, as if noticing her surroundings for the first time.

  ‘We’re at the foot of the Rift. Tyla carried you,’ he informed her. ‘On the horse, I mean. He led the horse and you were...’

  ‘Oh,’ she said distantly. He could see that the painful visions from earlier still tormented her.

  ‘I need to wash. Would you leave me please?’

  He walked over to where the Lyrats tended the horses whilst Aviti readied herself. Watching the Lyrat’s perform even this simple task reminded him of the grace and simple efficiency of their movements. It also brought back memories of the butchery on the upper planes.

  ‘Where’ll we go now?’ Wist asked, his voice sounding more confident than he felt. ‘We can’t stay here forever. I don’t want to rush Aviti if she isn’t ready though.’

  Walking round the chestnut mare, Faric came to rest beside Tyla. The two exchanged a glance.

  ‘We were preparing to speak to you about this once the girl was awake, and the horses cared for. Now will suffice,’ Faric’s brusque tone made Wist uneasy. Everything was moving too quickly.

  ‘You do not know the full tale of why we came for you,’ began Faric. ‘We have exiled ourselves from our tribe to save you. To take you to Eliscius.’

  ‘What do you mean, Eliscius?’ the name struck Wist once more. N’tini had spoken of him before his death. He hadn’t understood the mention of him then. ‘He’s dead. Been dead for centuries.’

  ‘It started half a season ago,' said Faric, 'as summer began. The Fahar of our tribe proclaimed the coming of a great demon. He spoke of how we should rise and unite to overthrow the Settled; of how it was our time.r />
  ‘Our tribe heard his words, but few were interested. The necessities of life on the great desert require constant vigilance.

  ‘Slowly, the repetition of the message found a hold within the tribe. The poison spread and soon the lust for blood and destruction consumed all other thoughts.’

  ‘We too were seduced by the promises of power,’ Tyla continued when Faric stopped.

  ‘Then, we had a dream.’

  Wist frowned. ‘Don’t you mean, “I had a dream”?’

  ‘Lyrat Pairs commonly share dreams,’ said Tyla. ‘But this was not only a dream.’

  ‘A man came to us,’ continued Faric. ‘He told us of our past and our future. He spoke of a man who would walk out of the desert. He spoke of why we should aid him.

  ‘And then he told us of the darkness that was coming. Of how it will cover the world if it remains unchallenged.

  ‘Once we woke,’ he said, ‘the spell cast over us was broken.’

  Faric paused for a moment then, the weight he bore showing on his face. ‘But its hold remained on our people. Our choice was plain: we could remain with our tribe, become a tool to be used, or we could face the darkness that waits to claim us.

  ‘We turned our back on our life and came to you. We have sacrificed it all. We believe that you alone can alter the fate of us all.’

  Both Lyrats dropped to one knee in front of him. ‘We swear our loyalty and service to you, Wist. But first we ask that you forgive us.’

  ‘What…,’ stammered Wist. ‘Get up, please. I don’t know what you are talking about. There’s nothing to forgive. Christ, this is the last thing I need. Please get up.’

  The Pair remained kneeling. ‘On the plateau above, when we rushed to face the Krowen, we left you to face the Waren alone.’

  ‘Waren?’ he asked.

  ‘The darkness that tried to take you and the girl: “the Waren”. That is what we believe the darkness was. It is an animate darkness that consumes the soul.’ Tyla’s soft tone betrayed the shame he felt at his failure. ‘Without Aviti, all would have been lost. Therefore, we are also in her debt.’

  ‘Whether or not you accept our service,’ said Faric ‘or forgive our failure, we shall complete the journey to Eliscius with you.’

  The promises of fealty from the Lyrats shamed him. Darkness eddied in Wist’s mind. This was how it began the last time. He had claimed responsibility for things that he had not understood. Everything had spiralled out of control, until -

  ‘No, damn it!’ he raged. ‘This will not happen. I will not be responsible for the world! Don’t you understand? I failed. I failed everyone.’ He turned from the Pair and stormed back to where Aviti had finished washing. Faric and Tyla stood and walked over to them; their soft footfalls barely made a noise in the post-dusk stillness.

  ‘We must leave,’ said Faric.

  ‘Leave?’ said Aviti. ‘I do not know where we are.’

  The unsteadiness she had shown earlier was gone, though her voice remained conflicted.

  ‘Providing you feel able, we make for the foot of the mountains - past the source of the White Corb. We go to find Eliscius.’

  ‘From there, our path is unclear,’ concluded Faric.

  Aviti looked from the Lyrat Pair to Wist. ‘I have no place to go to. I cannot stay here. It would seem I have no choice but to go where you lead.’

  --*--

  In the rubble of N’tini’s farm, Kerk trembled as he looked down on the ruins of his city. Fire raged along the city’s torn horizon, sending plumes of choking black smoke to blot the stars from the sky. The roar of destruction drowned the desperate cries from the broken town.

  The search for Wist had been a farce. The guards had been unable to control the townspeople; some of them had even joined in the looting.

  He could have found out where that farmer had hidden the blasphemous wretch. All it would have taken would have been a few moments and he could have broken the man, but the people had slipped from his control in the blink of an eye.

  And then he had caught sight of the fires burning in the town. At first, he assumed that a blaze had caught hold of the older part of the city. Then he watched in numb shock as separate fires sprouted. The sounds of the dying city reached his ears, as the blazes moved outwards from the centre. The burning corona grew, feasting on everything it touched.

  The people and soldiers that had accompanied him here ran back to fight the onslaught, but he knew the truth. His city had been sacked. The savages had come out of the desert and raped his beautiful city. Sitting on an outcrop of rock, at the edge of the ruined farm, he watched his home consumed in violence. The huge priest bowed his head to commune with God.

  Before he closed his eyes, a noise to his side caught his attention. There stood Tilden wearing the same simple black attire he had when he had last seen him. Rage boiled within him. He threw himself across the short distance between them.

  With a dismissive wave of his hand, Tilden stopped Kerk dead, his huge bulk colliding with a solid wall of air. He landed heavily on his back, knocking the wind from him. Cursing, he tried to pull himself up, but found that the force that he had hit was now pressing down on him, pinning him where he lay.

  ‘Damn you demon, let me rise,’ he spat.

  ‘I don’t know why you are angry with me,’ said Tilden, as he began to pace around Kerk’s prone body. ‘I warned you what would happen, but you delayed: you took too long to act.’

  Tilden’s condescending tone sent him into a further fit of rage. Spitting and shouting, Kerk’s futile anger erupted into the night’s sky.

  ‘Set me free,’ he said, once his initial fury had passed. ‘I shall tear your putrid heart from your chest.’

  A sneer passed over Tilden’s face. ‘My, my. Such hatred from a Holy man. But you weren’t always such a … righteous individual, were you?’ Tilden savoured every word.

  ‘“The Butcher”, wasn’t that what you were called?’ His captor moved closer to him, and the pressure pushing him down increased until Kerk found breathing difficult. ‘Before you found the light. But let’s speak of more important matters.’

  ‘Let me rise, Tilden,’ Kerk growled at him.

  ‘Tilden? Is that what that cunning little man told you? Conti played a merry tune and off you danced to it.’ The pale face grew stern as he glanced down to the growing conflagration below. ‘But you know who’s truly to blame for tonight’s destruction, don’t you?’

  Tilden moved to stand over him, staring into his eyes as he spoke. ‘The one who called himself Wist. If he had not have come here, the guard would have held the city gate, pushed the Lyrats back into the desert, saved the city. Do you think that it is coincidence that the Lyrats descended tonight?’

  Kerk was caught in Tilden’s penetrating gaze, unable to shake his hold. ‘That bastard has destroyed everything you had. He has stolen the life you have fought so hard to build.’

  Tilden broke contact with him. The pressure holding him down had dissipated, and with it, his immediate urge for violence had gone. He sat up slowly and looked over to where Tilden had seated himself on a large boulder.

  ‘He has gone;’ Kerk said, ‘fled into the desert no doubt.’

  ‘Indeed, you are correct,’ agreed Tilden. ‘He’s run like the coward he is; he and his companions. Even now the Lyrats spirit him away into the night.’

  ‘The Lyrats are with him?’ Kerk asked. The big man struggled to make sense of Tilden’s words.

  ‘Yes, he’s been in league with them from the start,’ confirmed Tilden. ‘Unfortunately, I didn’t know this until it was too late.’

  Tilden softened his tone as he spoke, his words finding their mark in the priest. Seething hatred reignited in Kerk’s heart.

  ‘I will tear him apart,’ he bellowed into the night.

  ‘I know where he goes, said Tilden, ‘and I can help you find him.’

  6 - Dream of Mirrors

  The sun had already thrown its final rays of the day o
nto the vast plain of the Great Desert when the four companions set out. Wist again rode behind Faric, while Aviti sat limply alongside Tyla. The party moved steadily across the desert, quite unlike the previous night’s desperate flight. The horses picked their way through the rocks, strewn on the ground like toys thrown from an infant’s crib.

  The moon rose into the cloudless sky, replacing some of the light that the sun had earlier provided. Without the sun’s strong illumination, Wist’s poor night vision ensured that it would be some time before he could make out anything other than outlines and blurred shapes.

  He still ached from the previous night’s exertions, and had not slept for more than a few hours. The rag that had been wrapped around his wrist had been replaced with a clean strip of material. The ragged cut from his fall had still been bleeding when he had last checked.

  Wist clung to Faric’s strong frame as he struggled to find the correct movements to match the horse’s gait. The noise of their mounts was the only sound on the endless desert. He tried to lose himself amongst the rhythmic beating.

  The guilt he felt for the destruction of Aviti’s life and family hammered down upon him. If only he had stayed back at N’tini’s farm and stood with Cairn to face the horde, he could have…

  But what could he have done? Perhaps the mob may have taken him and left Cairn and his family, but he doubted it. The farm would have been obliterated anyway. If only he had left sooner. He should have mentioned N’tini’s warning to Aviti and Cairn.

  He was going around in circles and the exit eluded him on each loop. Broken promises lay scattered throughout his life.

  Wist shifted on his seat, leant forward and rested his head against Faric’s back. He closed his eyes and concentrated on his movements; relaxing, he let the horse dictate them, rising and falling in time with the powerful beast’s strides, rather than fighting for control of himself. Surrendering to his mount’s graceful motion helped to ease some of the aches he felt from tensing his body.

  Slowly, steadily, the measured movements of the horse lulled his mind. Exhaustion overtook him and Wist drifted downward into sleep. This time, no horrific visions assailed him. He found no demons to torment his rest. Instead, he looked upon an old friend - Eliscius - and the sight of him filled his heart with warmth.