Passion of the Different

by Daniel A Roberts

  "I don't know," he confessed. "This route is a day longer than normal, if the information I got is accurate. We'll stop for food and drink when the kids wake." Then his brow furrowed as a thought leaked in from nowhere and bugged him. "I didn't see any baby food back there, do we have stuff for them?"

  Myra laughed, a sound his ears buzzed gladly to hear. Good natured, full of honest loving humor. "You're kidding, right? Baby food? Where does such a thing come from?"

  "I... but..." he stammered, then concentrated. "What do you feed them, then?"

  She gazed at him in wonder, like this was something he should have known all along and was pulling some private joke. When she realized just how serious he was, her eyes were big with amazement. She placed her hand to the top of her chest and said politely, "Me, darling. I have mother's milk for them."

  Of course. He instantly felt silly. "I should have known that," he told her seriously, then glanced at her startled expression. He winked at her and grinned and she melted while winking back. This was their personal signal nobody else in the world knew about, it brought her back the memory of when he first used it on her. She took almost two weeks to learn how to wink back and they used it often between them. He continued to explain. "I have no idea why I thought of baby food. Sometimes an idea or an impression will give itself a word and I'll know it. But with nothing to back it up, no idea how it was used or made it becomes difficult. It's hard for me to know when to mention such stuff."

  "This means your memory is improving then," she replied, grew excited as she shared what she knew. "I've often heard of stories where people suffered a great blow to the head and lost their identity. It would come back when they started to remember familiar things. Maybe this is what's happening to you."

  "I hope you're right," he replied, tone neutral as he stared off into the distance for a moment. "There was no wound or bandage on my head when I first woke up, but that doesn't mean something traumatic didn't happen."

  In response, her arms slid around him and squeezed as he drove the wagon. She wished with all her heart that willpower alone was enough to heal the blank spot in his mind. Her thoughts lingered on the first day she met him, finding him on his back in the woods and carefully looking him over to see if he was a threat or not. She never feared him because he never projected his size and strength in an intimidating manner at her. Only those who threatened her got such treatment and she didn't have any remorse over that. Feeling loved and protected when in his presence, she knew how much it bothered him that she had been stolen when he wasn't home. If he had been there, those Sanego soldiers wouldn't have stood a chance.

  The wagon trundled along in silence for a while as they absorbed each others presence. Then she brought up a subject that she needed to be resolved. "Honey, I'm having trouble with something and I need your help. I think you need to discuss this with me."

  His brain suddenly flopped inside his skull and wondered what she knew. Nera was her source of information about what happened while he was in the castle, but what did Nera actually say and how much did she pass on? "Yes darling?" he prompted carefully.

  "What do we name our children?" she asked quickly. "I didn't want to do it without you, it's important we give them proper names that reflect your bloodline and mine both."

  Relief exploded through his chest and thawed out the ball of ice that had been forming in the pit of his stomach. He had no idea if she was going to bring up the event where Nera had witnessed the queen kissing him in happiness and he looked like he enjoyed it, the moople incident or if she would ask where he was last night while getting some rest before they made the run for the border. Since it was neither of those he let it go and gladly focused on her question.

  "Since you helped find a name for me," he reminded her, a large smile on his face, "I'm sure you'll have no trouble doing a great job there too. My people, from what I can feel about it, are more simple in their naming. So how about I suggest one for our daughter and you suggest one for our son?"

  "Alright," she said, perked up considerably at his suggestion. The wagon hit a rut and jounced a little harder than normal. She took a moment to lift the flap and check. Good, they were still asleep. "You go first darling, I'm curious what your people have for girl's names."

  "How about," he wondered out loud, decided to joke with her a little bit, "Rebecca La'Rue of House Ven'Krue?"

  Myra's right eyebrow arched upwards as her features got an alarmed look, then she noticed the playful twitch of his mouth as he tried not to laugh. She slapped his arm but without any damaging strength. "Stop teasing me," she told him, then giggled. "That's horrible and way too long for a girl and you know it. Though the first part was kind of pretty. Just too long, honey."

  "Becky?" he suddenly suggested, wondered where the name came from other than being a shorter version of Rebecca. Stubborn and silent, the buried memories offered him no further clues. "That one is serious, dear," he clarified.

  "Becky," Myra echoed, tried it out loud from her own mouth to see how well it would fit. Different yet interesting to her ears. It would reflect her unique looks which matched that of her unusual father. So she tried the name a bit further. "Becky of House Ven'Krue. That would say a lot for her heritage to you and me both. I like it."

  "Excellent," he said, felt himself glow a little brighter and his chest puffed up a little bigger. Nobody could have told him he would feel like this as a new father. He would have accused them of making it all up. "Now it's your turn."

  "So it is," Myra replied, sighing in thoughtful contemplation. She rested her head on his shoulder and reflected on every name she heard for a man of her people. None of them stood out to her right away and suggested themselves. Then it popped into her head while she was trying to clear her thoughts. It fit them both perfectly so she tried it out on her husband. "How about Ruvian of House Ven'Krue? If he grows as big as you, we can put Za on the front like we did for you, sweetie. Za'Ruvian of House Ven'Krue."

  The name struck him as highly likeable the moment it left her lips. "Perfect," he told her, surprised that it sounded so close to his own name yet fit that of Elerian usage. "Better than perfect, honey. So here we are. Lord Za'Ryan and Lady Myra riding home with their children, Becky and Za'Ruvian of House Ven'Krue." Then he took his eyes off the trail and gave her a dazzling smile.

  A soft cry greeted them from just behind the front flap of the covered wagon, quickly joined by a second higher pitched bawling. "They're hungry," Myra told him. "We're bouncing too much, we'll need to stop so I can feed them."

  Ryan reined in the horses and glanced behind and further forward. There was nobody else on the trail in either direction so he didn't take the time to locate an area off to the side. She scooted into the wagon and closed the flap to keep the sunlight off the babies and he could hear his wife singing softly to them both, a calming musical hum that he never heard her use before. Haunting and beautiful at the same time, that ethereal melody backed by a mother's love would have soothed anybody.

  Four days of constant wagon travel and not a single soul came or went on the same trail they used. They took the time to talk about their captivity and he left certain events out. If she asked about them directly he would discuss it, but what she didn't know couldn't hurt her and he preferred it that way. She had been locked up but treated like a royal guest. The incident with Roo'Pah near the beginning of her ordeal was the only mistreatment she got, and the nasty fellow had been flogged for his behavior. Myra found that satisfying news, but still shuddered when she recalled the details.

  Her surprised laugh and long giggle at how Ryan got Kah'Deen to reveal where they took her gave him a measure of somber satisfaction. In those four days they caught up on a lot of time and spent every moment together. He held his children one at a time while she breast fed the other. He changed their cloth diapers and didn't mind the mess or smell. They were his kids too and Myra didn't object when he wanted to do these things, which he was grateful for.

  Just a
s he was starting to wonder if he would know where the border was and what it looked like, to their surprise the border actually found them.

  Chapter Thirty Three - The King

  The large group of men in the distance all wore bright Elerian steel armor and had built an impressive looking roadblock. Ryan halted his wagon at the parameter and grinned when the various men gawked at his size when he stood, then hopped down. Myra stayed in her seat, any fear she first felt at seeing an armed troop ahead evaporating when she recognized her countrymen.

  The roadblock consisted of sharpened logs and bales of hay stacked on the ends, flanked by more than a dozen armed men. One of them stepped forward when Ryan walked up and stated in a normal tone of voice, "Halt and be recognized."

  "Idiot," another of the soldiers barked at him from behind the logs. "Can't you figure it out? Nobody else is that big."

  Unfazed, the soldier regarded Ryan with an expected look. The big guy knew the type. Loved his job and the perks that went with it, so he decided to have a little fun and grinned.

  "I'm a woods demon and you're in my way," Ryan politely explained, keeping his baritone low on purpose.

  "What?" his challenger retorted, taking a step back while the impossibly huge man chuckled.

  "Don't do that to them, Lord Za'Ryan," Myra pleaded from the wagon seat as he wore a humorous grin. "If he believes you he'll have nightmares for weeks."

  A bark of laughter from the men behind the logs followed that remark, and Ryan waved off the moment while asking politely, "So this is the border? I'd like to go home, let us pass please."

  The fellow recovered with amazing speed as he nodded in agreement, but corrected Ryan's guesswork over where they really stood. "Most certainly, Lord Za'Ryan. So you know, this is the new border. The old border is about fifteen miles behind us. King Vorjon Zast'Hirame took a large chunk of land from Queen Darya as punishment for the raids and the kidnapping of a citizen. I take it this is the lovely lady?"

  "That she is," Ryan told him, and Myra smiled while blushing at the same time. "Fully rescued along with two new citizens in the back of the wagon." The fellow looked blank for a moment and he finished explaining to the soldier's surprise. "Our two children."

  "Very nice," the soldier complimented, and his comrades behind the works labored to take down some of the pointed logs so the wagon could pass. "You won't find any Sanego dogs past this point, so it's a safe trip. Still, would you like an escort the rest of the way to see the king?"

  "We were heading for Ocaza," Ryan explained, a moment of confusion crossing his face.

  "Exactly," another of the soldiers said, walking up now that his portion of the work was done in clearing the way. "King Vorjon Zast'Hirame has been in Ocaza with an army of around forty thousand men since the first day of summer. It's a perfect base for cleaning out the raiders and like we said, we have a new border now. We intend to keep it."

  "Thank you, gentlemen," Ryan told them all as he climbed back onto the wagon. "I can make it there without an escort. Stay safe, alright?" He flicked the reins and the wagon lurched forward. They saluted him with a clenched fist over their heart and he returned it as they trundled past. He had wondered many times when left to himself what was going on in his adopted homeland, what kind of reaction there was to the incident if any. He knew Vendegal had sent the kidnap note with a report to the king, but this kind of action wasn't what he expected.

  Nor did they expect to find what was happening when they approached their farm. A little more than two thirds done, stone cutters and laborers of all kinds were building a significantly larger stone home where the wooden cottage had stood before. The road they needed traveled past the bustling construction site on the way to Ocaza and they had prepared their hearts against seeing the ruins of everything they accomplished together. Instead they were greeted by an expensive looking project that would make any baron blush with envy.

  "What's going on here?" Myra asked one of the workers as he walked by, who stopped and suddenly recognized them.

  "You!" he told Ryan, who looked mystified. "Don't mind us here, my lord and lady. We're just following orders and rebuilding this here place. Stone can't be burned like wood, you know," as if that explained everything. Then he was off with his tools and other workers only paused long enough to glance and grin at them, then continued their trade.

  Myra shrugged at Ryan helplessly when he gave her a puzzled glance. He flicked the reins again and headed down the road to Ocaza. He was only about a mile from the town when they saw the tents. Forty thousand men were too much for the place to hold all at once and the tent city was a testament to their military precision. Set up in large square blocks, they looked orderly and well maintained. Smoke from hundreds of campfires curled upwards all around them.

  While the city roads were packed with citizens and soldiers going about their daily routine, he was recognized and word got out that he was in town. It didn't take long for Vendegal to find them and wave them over. "Park it by the mayor's mansion," the garrison commander told them happily. "I'll see to it you're announced. I take it you two been by the old farm?"

  "Yes," Ryan replied, curiosity getting the better of him. "What is that all about out there?"

  "It'll be explained soon enough," Vendegal promised, grinned happily. "You two are a welcome sight, my friends. Much has happened while you were gone and I'm not qualified to steal the thunder from my own king by spouting the news."

  "As long as he doesn't mind kids, we can go straight there," Ryan told his friend, grinning back.

  "Kids?" Vendegal blinked. "More than one?"

  "Twins," Ryan clarified, puffing up his chest. "A boy and a girl."

  "Well congratulations to you both," Vendegal replied, mollified. "The king loves children, but this isn't the time and place for that. I'll arrange for a couple of excellent nannies to help out, he'll want to see you both as soon as possible. Now let's get this wagon parked and out of the way, there's a lot going on." He wasn't kidding, the throng of people started to build the moment he paused to talk to Vendegal. While the townsfolk were somewhat used to Ryan, the soldiers that were part of the army were not. They packed together to get a good look of his size and height, the murmur of their hushed conversations growing.

  True to Vendegal's word, soon after they parked and entered the mayor's mansion, two capable looking nannies cradled both babies with an adoring expression. They took them off to one side but didn't walk out of the sight of either parent. A few minutes later and the audience chamber doors opened. A long table filled with nobles looked out at them and a richly dressed man stood at their head and beckoned them inside.

  "Please come in," Vorjon Zast'Hirame said politely, his large amber eyes taking in Ryan's appearance with only a small amount of surprise. "While I didn't expect to meet either of you this soon, the honor is all mine." He nodded and waved them forward, a silver crown sitting atop his light red hair. It reflected random sparkles from a small diamond outline with the slightest movement.

  Ryan instantly liked him. The nobles made room at the table and they took the offered seats while Vorjon remained standing. His smile was infectious and good natured. The polar opposite of an evil queen, he realized with relief. He worried silently to himself the king would be another ruthless sounding monarch who would give decrees and not care for much of anything else. Glad those misgivings were unfounded, he responded with obvious respect in his best modulated baritone, "Thank you, your majesty."

  Startled for a moment at the depth of Ryan's voice, he chuckled and recovered well. "Now that's a sound to strike fear into those Sanego bastards," he complimented the big man. "Now down to business. Lord Za'Ryan, have you yet been informed of your promotion?"

  Now it was Ryan and Myra's turn to look startled. "No," he replied quickly. "We've only been here for a short time."

  "Good," Vorjon exclaimed, happy he was the one to tell him first. "Learning of Avrohom's treachery through Darya's diplomat, you've been given his offi
ce of the Ocaza Tax Collector. This had a two score effect," he explained to them all carefully. "One, it meant that Darya was now holding a government official and she had to treat you far better than tossing you into some dungeon." He paused to see if Ryan added to that, which he did.

  "That explains the surprising amount of good treatment all of a sudden," he told the king, who nodded as the big guy finished talking. "She's petty and demanding, like a spoiled child. I was half expecting to be beaten or tortured for cooperation and that would explain why she didn't go that route. And thank you, your majesty, for such insight and help from afar."

  "Don't mention it," his commanding tenor resonated with respect. "The title was more than help, it's made to stick. The office is yours for good, since Duke Haz'Bolian has spoken highly of your intelligence." Haz'Bolian toasted Ryan from his position at the table and earned a grateful grin back. The king continued, "That part aside, there's the second reason for such an appointment. Darya's diplomat said you killed Avrohom with a dagger through his throat. Is this true?"

  There was a murmur among the nobles but Myra didn't look worried at all. In fact, she looked at her husband with something close to worship. "Yes," Ryan replied, keeping his voice as normal as possible. "I stole his escort's dagger and threw it. He died while choking on his own blood and I laughed at him. It seemed fitting since that was the fate he said I was to suffer."

  "I see," Vorjon said gravely, looked at all the assembled nobles. "Keep in mind that Lord Za'Ryan was not yet promoted when that happened. Killing a government official is a serious crime here. Since he has a valuable office after the crime was reported, I say his punishment is to be limited to time served in Darya's dungeon. Agreed?"

  "Agreed!" the nobles all shouted at once.

  "There," Vorjon announced with obvious relief. "Now I can reply to that bitch that her complaint over losing a spy to one of my citizens is punished and settled. More importantly we won't have to lie about it." Ryan fought back a sudden laugh, but the king noticed and remarked on the situation. "I know, if dealing with state matters wasn't so serious it would be downright hilarious sometimes. We royals of all the surrounding lands keep a traditional sense of honesty with each other no matter how rotten one gets. And by having you both here now, I don't have to concede to anymore of her demands for your safe return. Any questions?"