by Lloyd Baron
Riochald crumples into his arms and to the surprise of everyone watching the Dark Clan surrounds her in his arms and cloak, holding her into his chest. His face however remains stone.
“You should not be frightened by your power. It cannot do harm. It heals in its own way but not in the way you first thought. It drags pain, death, disease and sickness into it. The more you heal, the stronger it will become and the harder it will be to control. I can teach you how to control it and how to release the dirtiness of it.
“You all must have felt it on her? How you feel inside when she moves close to you? You all feel sick, and fear her but do not know why? And you, child,” he regards Riochald. “You have seen this in the faces of others and have become hard and bitter. It was never you. You never did anything wrong. It is a gift and a curse that you have moving around you. I feel it as coldness against my skin and I want to pull my robes around me to warm up. I cannot feel the pain or fear within it and nor will anyone who can see you for who you are. True love will not be stopped by this thing. Do not fret about always being alone. There is one who is unaffected by this.” His eyes dart past Darwin’t and settle briefly on Fia.
“I can teach you all. I will teach you all. We will start in an hour. I will show you to your rooms and then I must report to the High Darkest. I will not inform him of who I believe you to be. Even I cannot trust the ones I should be able to. Once you are trained I will take you to the Angels, and we will end this war of darkness forever.”
Tak’arshi lets go of Riochald’s shoulders and Canace rushes over to take his place. The Dark Clan looks over his shoulder at the body of the girl who is being cradled in the arms of a sobbing Nanny Gru. For a moment his face looks at odds with itself. “I wish I knew how it felt,” is all he says as he turns his back on the dead child he had created and strolls from the hall.
30
SWORDS, DREAMS and FLOWERS
Darwin’t had been ushered away from the nursery by a horde of stern faced women and one sobbing one dressed in the livery of Galvalou. It surprised him that there were so many servants in the employ of the Dark Clan. They must be paid a handsome sum of coin to live and work within this enclosed city. The ones he saw nodded respectfully, and some even bowed or curtsied at the passing Dark Clan, much the same as in the palace. He had still been in a state of shock after seeing the vileness of Riochald’s healing power and even more so from hearing that all their lives that uneasy feeling he felt around her was in fact that gift. She had almost been carried by Fia but as they approached the door from the nursery she had wriggled from his arms to walk by herself.
The room he was shown to was small and basic. White plastered walls, small bed and a wash basin, a desk was pushed into the corner with a stool underneath and writing materials on top; a room suited for a maid perhaps. He was surprised to find his belongings from his saddlebags laid out upon the bed but nothing seemed to have been tampered with. His thoughts of having a nap hadn’t lasted long when a knock had come at the door only minutes after he had pulled off his boots and settled upon the soft mattress. The door had opened almost as the knock had sounded and a short Dark Clan with shoulder-length black hair and a small waxed beard fixed into a point had swept in. Swept in was right as his layers of robes had seemed like an ocean wave breaking across rocks. Darwin’t had leapt to his feet and stuttered incoherently before bowing. The Dark Clan had just cocked his head to the side like they all seemed to and shown no interest in what Darwin’t was trying to say.
His name is Halk’sta and they sit together in a large bedchamber a few floors above where Darwin’t’s room was. The room is just as plainly decorated as the small one but the bed is lavish with many multicolored pillows and cushions heaped upon it. Hundreds of books are piled up on any available surface and floor. Where Tak’arshi’s eyes are deep and penetrating, Halk’sta’s are soft and his manner is much more relaxed, and at times scatty. On the climb up the many stairs he had tried to explain why he had been called upon but he also seemed to find forming sentences as hard as Darwin’t. Had it been anyone else, Darwin’t would have said he was nervous, but Dark Clan do not have that ability. However, it was clear that they were not that much different than regular people. A lack of emotion didn’t mean they were cold and dispassionate. “We have hopes and dreams and ambition,” Halk’sta had said on their walk to the higher level. “We also have passions, but they are logical and not emotional. I myself become very excited when I learn of something new I had not known before.” He had turned to Darwin’t then and with the blankest of facial expressions told him he was greatly excited right that second. They were not that different, though they were definitely an odd people.
Halk’sta opens a notebook and silently searches for the page he needs, not explaining what he is doing or even why they have come to his personal bedchamber. Darwin’t casts his eyes about nervously; dread forming a bubble in his gut. Chaz had told them over and over that the Dark Clan were nothing to fear; but a lifetime of hearing stories of the monstrosities they had committed is fresh in his mind right that moment. Halk’sta looks up at him and moves his head in that odd birdlike motion and even tries to smile, which makes his face look more pained than reassuring. “We do not all interact with outsiders such as yourself,” he explains. “We have lessons on how to read body language and how to mimic certain emotions. I myself never intend to leave the woods here and so missed many of the lessons. I would like to formally apologize for my lack of understanding of how you must feel. From what I have learnt your quick eye movements indicate fear or perhaps uncertainty.” He reaches out a hand which causes Darwin’t to flinch. Halk’sta twitches his head almost as if he is logging within his mind not to touch someone who seems nervous. “I will explain to you why you are here. I am what is known as a Dreamer as I am told you may also be. Hence my excitement and rashness. I am the only one here who has this gift and mine is much weaker then I would like it to be. I would…” he looks over at some books piled in the corner and narrows his eyes slightly at them,. “…I think the word you would understand is ‘love’; I would love to be better at it. I have read all the studies and ancient scrolls on the subject but have been unable to progress further than walking within the dream world.
“I think it is correct to say that I would trade all of my things here within my room to have more knowledge. Even the many pillows which are my only luxury and, I think, even my books.” He glances at the pile in the corner again, and this time he frowns, yet his eyes remain hollow. “It is hard to talk to you. I am trying so hard to act like a human that I am unable to think. It is frustrating for me.”
Darwin’t almost laughs but he keeps it down to an involuntary grin which earns him another twitch of the head. “You are doing fine,” he says trying to be reassuring but then realizes there is no need to reassure Dark Clan. “You can relax. Talk normally.”
Halk’sha stares back at him for a moment and then with his face returning to a mask of nothingness begins to explain in an expressionless tone. “We will enter the world of dreams; a place near to the void which surrounds all worlds. Most people only enter this world when they are deep in sleep and have no memory of having entered. Most dreams do not touch the world of dreams and are formed from the memories or thoughts of the person sleeping. The world of dreams is a place where time runs in more ways than forwards and so can be used to predict events that have yet to happen. Dreamers can enter this world and see clearly the future of not only their lives but sometimes events that will change the world completely. I myself have this talent; although I have only ever managed to see a few days ahead, and only then when it is looking at my own life. I can predict what meals will be cooked or conversations I will have. Once I saw Grind’iv slip on a wet floor and hurt his arm and was able to stop the event from happening. I will teach you how to look at your dreams and interpret them in ways that will help your life. To do this we need to wrap ourselves in Mana and once asleep we will be taken into the world of dream
s. You have a strange energy which crackles all over you, and I believe you can use this to fuel you dreaming. Do you understand?”
Darwin’t shakes his head. “Maybe you should try to sound human again.”
Fia Sharphorn had been born on the mountain slopes in the range of Dray. His mother had almost died in a fall bringing him back to the village where his father was chef. They had lain on a mountain ledge buried under fresh snow for almost a day. It was only the circling of a large bird that had drawn the attention of rescuers. They were a hard people who had become harder in the course of history, fighting many battles between tribes and goblins. “Peace” was not a word heard often in the mountains but it was one that all the tribes claimed to want to hear. His father had raised the banner of peace eight suns ago, and it still held, if sometimes by the tips of its fragile fingers. That was when he had been told that he was destined to leave the mountains; the Princess was waiting for him.
Fia shrugs out of his shirt and tugs his boots off, before dropping onto his bed with a sigh. He stares up at the ceiling but fights the urge to fall into slumber. The last few days have been more stressful then all his suns growing up in Min, his village. The boys all seemed to think it was some great game or adventure that would end the moment they reached the Angels. Something they could tell the folks back home and their children and grandchildren in the suns that followed. All except the large quiet man. He was stressful in a completely different manner. He did not voice opinions or agreements or disagreements. Many times he had been asked a question, given orders or just told a joke and he would simply stare and then lower his face and walk away. Something had happened to him in those first few days of traveling. Fia’s first thoughts of the man were not very pleasant. He never seemed to shut up about artists or farming or music. His voice was deep and when he spoke it was sometimes hard to hear what he was saying unless you stopped what you were doing to listen. But a few days into the journey he had shut off and began this silent brooding. And what is it with sniffing that damn hat?
Canace and Chaz were getting along which was also a worry. The petite farm girl was pleasant and intelligent enough to have a conversation with, but her lack of knowledge of the outside world was amazing. It was not her that worried him however. Chazrina had the habit of getting herself into trouble on her own without dragging Canace with her. Although if she had sparked a friendship up with Danlynn he would have stepped in to break them up; that would be too much to handle.
And then there is Riochald. She clearly does not remember him. He was probably just some clumsy buffoon who had caused her bother by falling from his horse and slowing down her journey. She had not said where she was heading that day but it had seemed urgent and she was very brisk with him. There had just been something beautiful about her; more than the way she looked or carried herself. He could not explain it back then, and he still he cannot, but he was going to keep trying. The thought of her stirs his emotions. He sits up suddenly and grabs his boots. Wrenching the door open almost sends Chaz cart-wheeling into the room, her outstretched hand poised to knock hard. She stands and regains her composure, touching her hair which makes her grimace. She is dressed for battle with a dark leather tunic and breaches, soft boots and those twin swords fastened at her hips. The garments really cling to her figure.
“We have been asked to train with the Dark Clan,” she says breathlessly. She must have been running. He notices tiny beads of sweat on her neck which she dabs with a small cloth. She turns her eyes on him and smiles slowly before handing him the cloth. “You will need to dry off. You have broken out in a cold sweat.” She chuckles to herself as she turns and jogs back down the hallway. “Meet me in the practice yard.” Then she drops out of sight but her mirthful laughter still floats towards him.
He glances down at his bare chest and grimaces. She is one woman he really does not wish to encourage. He grabs his shirt and tugs it on as he turns to fetch his large blade which is resting against the wall. As he steps out of the room his thoughts return to Riochald. Instead of heading to the practice yard he retraces his steps all the way to the door outside the nursery. The sound of weeping coming from behind it. He takes a deep breath to settle the nerves that have suddenly filled his gut. What is it about this woman that she can make him feel this way? He pushes the door open and is stunned by what he sees. Tak’arshi and Riochald stand amongst a sea of servants and other Dark Clan, heads bowed, soft sounds of crying coming from many of the woman. The body of the small girl is being carried past them all towards a large square hole in the wall at the far end of the room.
“We send this child back to the Great Spirit,” one of the Dark Clan begins to say in a loud voice as he steps over to the hole and pulls out a stone ledge. “She was created by Trelma’tia Groun’dev and Tak’arshi Bur’est and was cared for by Nanny Gyn'mit and Nanny Gru amongst others. They have given me the words in which she will be remembered.” The body is placed upon the stone ledge and is gently slid within the hole. “Loving, gentle and happy,” the Dark Clan intones as he leans to kiss the girl’s forehead. “I myself always saw her in tones of bright yellow. I wish I could have enjoyed her emotions.” The Dark Clan filling the room mutter the final part and then the large room falls silent.
At a signal from the back of the room Tak’arshi and a tall slender Dark Clan move over to the girl. Without much pause or hesitation the two link hands and the girl’s body flashes brightly, and then is gone. “She is returned,” they chime together. Suddenly the tall Dark Clan drops to his knees and clutches his head between his hands. If Fia didn’t know better he would say he was grief-stricken but that is impossible. The act lasts only a moment, however, and Tak’arshi helps the man back to his feet and they sweep from the room followed by most of the others. There remain only two Dark Clan and a handful of servants and Nannies.
Riochald stares blankly at the opening in the wall, with none of her fiery temper and passion on display. Fia is suddenly unsure if he should approach and give the solitary woman the comfort she wants and he so desperately desires to give her. Or should he leave her and return to his duty in the practice yard? Before he can make up his mind, y does this woman make you so hesitant? Riochald turns her eyes towards him. The look is fierce and somewhat frightening. Fia swallows hard and fights to keep his hands by his sides to stop them pressing the nerves from his stomach. With a final deep breath he bounds over to her reaching out a hand to take hers.
The slap across his face comes so fast and hard that spots flash across his vision. “What in the world are you?—”
“This was private!” She shrieks through gritted teeth. “It was a thing of beauty and grief ruined by you bursting through the door like some crazy wool-headed bull chasing a girl in a red dress! It was for those close to the girl to say goodbye and to mourn!”
“Then why were you here?” The words come out of his mouth before he can stop them. It is a mark that his steely composure is tarnished in the presence of this woman. He does not even try to stop the next slap which hits him so hard his head spins. “I am—”
“I was here because I felt like I had killed her.” Tears slide down her cheeks untended, her temper flaring more than her sorrow. “Nanny Gru said it might help to see her pass to the Great Spirit.”
“Did it?” Riochald snarls and punches him in the jaw. Not a slap but a balled fisted punch. His head snaps back and before he knows what he has done Riochald is lifted into the air, a large hand on each shoulder so that her eyes are level with his. “You will stop that now!” he roars. To his surprise she does not try to struggle, her eyes are wide and she seems to be trying to knock him off his feet with pure hatred, but she does not try to wriggle or kick. He realizes how ridiculous he is being and drops her back onto her feet. She calmly touches her hair to make sure the bun is still in place and fidgets with her skirts—anything but look at him. “I came here to see if you were coping with what had happened. This seemed like the most logical place to start my search. I wou
ld not have entered if I had known what was taking place within. I am sorry, Healer Dymphia.” He instantly and desperately regrets not using her real name. “I will not disturb you again this day.”
She reaches out to take his hand, all the while staring into his eyes, her own grey eyes, pools of sadness. “It is you, Fia Sharphorn. You are the one of whom Tak’arshi was talking about. You are the one who sees me for who I am and not by the slick of darkness that covers me. I can see it in your eyes. Just like I could that day on the road..”
“You do remember!” He pulls her closer and she has to tilt her head up to see his face. “I thought you had forgotten about that. Forgotten me.” Riochald stares up at him for a moment yet something in her eyes changes and she lets go of his hand and backs away.
“I wanted to forget,” is all she says as she glides past him and leaves the nursery without another word. He turns and watches her go without a single hesitation or glance back at him. His heart lurches in his chest and his stomach is filled with a sick feeling. Why would she want to forget the only man who has ever seen her as a woman and not as something to fear? He takes a deep shuddering breath before stalking in the direction she had gone.
“I will not give up on you,” he mutters as he begins to run. “Dymphia Pia.” He shouts as he turns a corner and sees her begin to round another. She stops and looks his way, uncertainty painted across her face. She looks about her nervously and is also embarrassed by having her name shouted out in a hallway filled with servants and the odd Dark Clan.
“What do you want now?” She mutters angrily.
“I am going to the practice yard with Chaz. I would like it if you could join us for our practice. I would like it very much.”
