Adventures of Youth & Shadows of the Past

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Adventures of Youth & Shadows of the Past Page 7

by Nona Mae King


  He knelt, gazing at her eye-to-eye as he took her arms in a gentle grip. "I'm your father, Relm. I have been your father, even as I hid behind that shroud. Even as I watched you grow in courage and bravery, determined to eliminate an evil that destroyed so many. I've been your father, even as I've been your friend."

  She shook her head again, pulling against his grip with a half-hearted tug. "No. Please."

  His eyes darkened with agony but he pressed onward. "I was Shadow."

  Relm covered her face with her hands and burst into tears, anger and hurt clashing together to bring fresh sobs. "Why? You didn't have to tell me. I didn't care. I just wanted my father." Her hands dropped and the rage sparkled in her emerald eyes as she pushed at him. His grip remained firmly gentle on her arms. "Why did you give Terra your sash and make me think you were dead?" Push. "Why'd you send Interceptor for me to take care of?" Push, shove. "Why, if you were going to tell me who you were anyway?"

  "I was given another option. One that I thought would be easier on you, until I realized that, again, I was taking the coward's answer. I was robbing you of something that you needed to be told. A decision that should have been yours to make."

  "Even if it made me hate you?"

  He cringed and swallowed hard. "Yes," he said in a tight voice. "Even then. I . . . I couldn't keep this from you, Relm. You deserved my complete honesty. You deserved all or nothing." His grip tightened on her arms momentarily. "You're all I have left. I wasn't going to lie to you anymore. That was Shadow's life, and I had already decided to put that behind me."

  Question after question pushed accusation after accusation out of her mind as she stared down at her father . . . her friend. . . . His misery shone clear. The dread even more so. She didn't know what to do or what to feel. She felt angry that he'd traveled with her for so long and not told her. She felt relieved that Shadow, her friend, wasn't dead. She felt hurt that he thought she wasn't mature enough to move past the lie and accept him--

  "I'm sorry, Relm," he said in a voice taut with despair. "I've done you an injustice again." He slowly stood and released her arms. "I'll go if you wish."

  Relm stared up at him in confusion and myriad other emotions which kept her rooted to the spot. She wanted to hit him. She wanted to hug him. She wanted to cry her eyes out and tell him that she didn't care. That she was happy just to have a father, finally. All she could do was stare at him, tears trailing paths of agony down her cheeks as she desperately tried to think of the right thing to do--She fisted her hands and lurched forward, pummeling his chest as she cried and raged in frustration.

  He knelt, gathering her weeping form into his arms, silently taking the slaps, shoves, and punches as she continued to vent her fury, confusion, and betrayal the only way she knew how. Once the onslaught passed, she wrapped her arms around him and sobbed, burying her face into his neck as he tightened his protective embrace.

  "I am so sorry," he repeated in a voice sated with tears. "I never meant to hurt you. I thought I would die when the battle with Kefka ended. I had resolved myself to that ending because I knew I would never be your father. I had too much evil in my heart. Then I was given another chance. And another." He pulled back and held her face in his hands, wiping her tears away with his thumbs as his gaze held hers. "Your face wouldn't let me go. The memory of the happy life with you and your mother plagued me each night, urging me to try again. To recapture it. I had to try."

  Relm saw the tears in his eyes, watching them in awe as they cascaded down his scarred cheeks. Never in her life could she have imagined Shadow crying. Yet . . . Shadow was her father. He was her father. Your father, she told herself. You have a father. She brought her hands up to his face and tenderly wiped the tears from his cheeks. "Daddy," she choked out, "please don't go away again."

  He pulled her into another tight embrace, pressing his damp cheek against her tousled curls. "I won't. I promise."

  9: Death Beckons a Hero

  Terra hurried down the stairs and nearly ran into Edgar on his way up. Concern flashed in his eyes as he steadied her with hands placed gently around her waist.

  "What is it?" he asked.

  "Strago--He's coughing up blood, Edgar. Hurry for the doctor."

  Edgar nodded and turned away, slamming out of the house as Terra rushed back upstairs.

  *

  Relm could sense something was wrong when she and Shad--her father returned a couple hours later. Her step faltered and his grip on her hand tightened. "Something's wrong," she said in a faint whisper.

  "Yes, I noticed it, too." He waited for her to take a step forward and, when she still hesitated, he shifted his calm gaze to her. She stared at the house. "He has been sick for quite a while. You knew he was dying."

  She nodded, barely, her teeth absently worrying her lower lip. "Yeah. I knew."

  "You will want to say good-bye."

  Relm nodded again, dread settling firmly in the pit of her stomach like a magicite shard the like of which she'd never seen. "I know."

  "He'll want to see you."

  Her stomach lurched and she took a faltering step backward. Her father's hand kept her from turning and fleeing back the way they'd come. Her grandfather had been her entire life. Someone she thought would always be there, a pain in her backside. The conscience that she always ignored. The common sense she tried to live without.

  Relm turned an agony-darkened gaze to her father. "Not now. It's not fair. We were just--" Her voice was swallowed by the tears that lurched into place.

  "We were just a family?" Relm silently nodded, tears making her emerald eyes gemlike. Her father held that gaze for a long moment, pain twisting the scars at the corners of his eyes. "Your absence will not keep him from dying, Relm. You will only hurt an old man who has loved you as much as was possible."

  Her voice fought its way through the misery and broke through in a choked squeak. "He survived Kefka's Tower. He survived the Fanatic's Tower. How can he die now?"

  Clyde caressed a tear from her cheek, and his grip tightened on her hand still in his. "He can die now because he knows you will be safe."

  Relm turned her frightened gaze back to the house. She'd never faced death this close to her before. It had always been someone else. "I . . . I don't want to see him die. Not him. Anyone but him."

  Clyde brushed a curl from her temple and gently guided her forward. She didn't resist. "Come, Relm. Terra and Edgar are there, and it's best to be surrounded by those we love when Death approaches."

  Her hand squeezed his so hard her fingers began to hurt.

  The two entered the house and silently progressed up the stairs, pausing on the landing to allow the rumpled, drenched, and flustered doctor room to pass. He fled from sight muttering something about crazy men and mismanaged abilities that could have been used for the greater good. The distraction gave Relm enough time to scramble for her courage before moving further in, climbing the stairs that yet dripped with the lore used on the abused town doctor.

  Strago lay in a corner bed, his hands clutching the covers as Terra continued to dab a cool and damp rag across his forehead. She and Edgar saw Relm and her father enter the room at the same moment.

  Edgar approached them, his normally bright blue eyes nearly charcoal with deep-seeded sadness. "Terra has given him something for the pain, but . . . it is but a matter of time. Very little, I'm afraid."

  "Eh? Is that Relm?" Strago's weakened voice sounded from the corner of the room, persisting even when Terra urged him to save his strength. "Come over here, Relm. I need to speak to you."

  Relm's grip on Clyde's hand tightened, if possible, and she made her way to her grandfather's side. Her father stood just behind her. Strago looked at both of them with a tender smile, and Relm slowly sat on the side of the bed. There was a slight coloring of red in his beard.

  Relm took in a deep breath, released her father's hand, and forced a scowl on her face. "Are you still acting sick? Well I like that. Terra and Edgar visit for the first t
ime in months, my dad shows up after who knows how many years, and you're in bed with a cold."

  Strago hacked out a laugh, quickly covering his mouth with a kerchief to hide the splattering of blood. Relm barely withheld a cringe. He reached out to take her hand, weakly patting it as his eyes twinkled at her. "I'll be all right in the morning, dear. Don't you worry about that."

  Relm swallowed back a sob, finally speaking in an uneven voice. "Yeah, that's what you always say. Just don't expect me to bring you breakfast in bed."

  "No special treatment for me," he told her. "You save that for your father." He changed his gaze to Clyde. "You do right by her."

  "I will, Strago. I will."

  A sniff slipped through Relm's crumbling facade of courageous anger and she fell forward, engulfing her grandfather in her arms with a sob. "Don't die, grandpa. I love you."

  Strago closed his eyes with a slight smile and brought his arms around her. "And I love you, you little dear."

  The arms went slack and Relm's sobs deepened. Clyde sat down behind her to gently pull her into a comforting embrace.

  Epilogue

  It was a silent and somber group gathered that day in Thamasa. They watched as Clyde and Relm Arrowny made their way forward, placing a bouquet of pale flowers by the headstone newly erected beside that of General Leo. The occupant, Strago Magus, would be greatly missed.

  "Good-bye, grandfather."

  Relm had seemed to age an entire decade by the passing of the old man, and each time one of the group retold a story of their previous traveling days, a flash of pain darkened her eyes. She'd long since excused herself from the others, retreating to sit at the foot of a tree behind the large house where she'd once been trapped by fire. Her grandfather had gone against the rules of the mayor and attempted to use magic to save her. When that hadn't worked, he'd actually gone into the still burning building to find and rescue her.

  Relm covered her face with her hands and hunched over, pushing away the loneliness she felt at his sudden absence. A footstep made her straighten suddenly, wiping the tears from her face as she attempted to blink them away. It was Sabin. She looked away, staring at the ground at her feet as she kicked at a pebble with the toe of her black slipper. He silently sat beside her.

  When he didn't say anything, she cast him a sidelong glance. "What."

  "Nothing," he said softly.

  She looked away again. The silence annoyed her. Every one of the Thamasa residents had offered their "heartfelt condolences" or their "sincerest apologies" about her grandfather's death. Sabin had been the only one--besides Edgar and Terra and her father--who hadn't offered such bland words of comfort. Now, with him just sitting beside her, she could feel a fresh onslaught of tears. It was as if his mere presence was acting as an invitation to vent.

  "It's not fair," she whispered in a choked voice.

  He nodded, lifting his head just enough to squint off into the distance. "I know."

  Her throat constricted a little more and she sniffled, clenching her hands into fists. "I . . . I'm just so mad at him," she cried as she turned to face Sabin. "Why did he have to go? Why did he have to die now that everything was going to be different? I had my father! We could have told stories of my mother! We could have been a family!"

  Sabin nodded again, dropping his gaze to the pebble-covered ground at his feet. He picked one up and threw it. It clinked off a tree. "Yep." His voice was still quiet.

  Relm turned away again, wiping the tears from her cheeks and not caring they were replaced with twice as many as before. "He left, Sabin, and he told me he would never do that. He promised I wouldn't be alone. Ever."

  "I'd be angry too."

  "Damn right I'm angry," she seethed. Relm took up a fistful of small pebbles and tossed them at the nearest tree. Each one missed. Her throat tightened, wrestling with the tears that so desperately wished to be free. "The first time I actually admit that I want him to be around and that's when he decides to die! It isn't fair!"

  "Nope. He should have known better."

  That statement made her stop, and her anger dissipated like the air from a punctured balloon. Relm took in a deep breath, felt amazingly less overwhelmed, and was immediately bombarded with guilt for what she had just said. She cast Sabin another sidelong glance, but he still squinted at a distant tree. "Well . . . I guess I'm not really alone."

  He shrugged and picked up another pebble. "No. I guess not."

  "After all, I've got my father now. And you guys," Relm quickly added.

  Sabin nodded, almost grudgingly, and turned to hand her the pebble. Their eyes met. "That's true."

  Relm took the pebble and looked toward the tree he first pelted. She tossed the rock and nearly hit the same spot. She smiled slightly and released a deep breath. "I'm sure he didn't mean to leave me."

  "No. Probably not."

  She looked down at the satin ribbon on her black slippers and released another deep breath, a tear caressing her cheek to drop to the pale ground at her feet. "I'm going to miss the old fuddy-duddy."

  Sabin caught her gaze, and his eyes held understanding. "Yeah. Me, too."

  Relm closed her eyes and turned toward him suddenly, burying her face in his chest as the grief-filled sobs were ripped from her soul. Sabin looked down at the weeping girl before folding one arm protectively around her.

  The End

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  Other Books in the Terra saga

  Terra | Book One

  The Ace of Diamonds | Book Two

  Shadows of the Past | Book Three

  The Adventures of Youth

  Heart of the Veldt | Book Four

  About the Author | Nona Mae King

  Writing has been my passion since I was a child when I began creating skits and songs. My life would be empty without this call. There would be no purpose. No ending to guide my daily struggle. No story toward which to strive. Each day something beckons, and that--I know--is the waiting tale. One last happy ending.

  Connect with Me Online:

  Twitter: https://twitter.com/writersprite

  Facebook: https://facebook.com/NonaKing

  My site: https://angelbreathbooks.com/ | https://mintfield.net

  My blog: https://wordobsession.net

 


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