Anah and Treva almost slammed into what seemed just a small elder WynSprign woman bent over, picking bilberries from a bush. Her form was fragile and small.
“Whoa! Whoa there!” Greta said kindly through the missing teeth of her new form. She caught Treva by the armored arm and gripped her with raised eyebrows.
“Ooo! Are you all right?” Treva panted. “I’m so sorry, we—" Her eyes widened.
Greta slowly looked up to meet Treva’s gaze and reached up to tuck strands of loosened green hair behind the younger woman’s ear.
Treva took a moment, and then stammered, “G-Greta? Is that—is that you?” Then her face softened to a smiling, breathy laugh. She bent over and hugged the old woman, lifting her off the ground in excitement.
“Yes! My dear, it’s me”—she struggled as Treva squeezed her and then set her down—"Oh my, you’re still a strong one, aren’t you?”
“Well, you’re as light as a sparrow,” Treva responded with happiness.
If she only knew, thought Greta playfully.
Treva turned to begin explaining things to Anah, but Greta quickly grew serious:
“You looked panicked, my dear—why are you running?”
Treva stepped back. Her eyes bright. “Oh! We are in danger! Mysra guards are chasing us—I think two of them. Back there somewhere. We all need to hide, quickly!”
“Alright, my dears run that way!”—Greta pointed a wrinkled finger in the direction of her tree home. Treva grabbed her by the wrist, to urge her on. The elder woman jerked her hand free and Treva gave her an incredulous look. “I’ll be right behind you.”
As Treva and Anah turned to place running steps, Greta secretly raised her hand and conjured a small gust of wind thundering like dashing feet—and she sent it away from them, toward their pursuers. The Mysra guards would hear the thundering footsteps and be diverted away from them, running in the opposite direction.
In the next instant, Greta turned to run with Treva and Anah, now steps ahead. The fugitives didn’t notice her spell, nor the one she was about to cast. The old woman quickly outpaced them while summoning her power again, leading the way to her home.
It wasn’t more than a few moments until they came to her tree-covered house, and Treva and Anah stopped in awe, with no idea that they had just been traveling at impossible speeds. The enchanted cottage seemed very close to the mountain pass they had left only moments before.
“Quick—in here, dears,” the old woman gestured to them kindly.
They listened but heard no pursuers from the wood behind them, then followed her, looking in awe at the glowing bent trees that formed the large structure that seemingly could hold many rooms. Treva and Anah quickly forgot about the chase and were overcome with awe at this most peculiar home. Greta opened the door slowly. Treva paused behind the elder and the younger, protectively looking out while they entered.
Three surprised males stood just inside. Lanico had kept watch, holding the Reluctant Leader tight. His eyes caught the first glimpse of the mud-caked Anah, who shied from him and his sword and entered slowly. Marin saw her next. She gazed up at him through mud-caked features and stroked back her muddy red hair. She walked quickly and shyly past him, stopping short at the fearsome but familiar spectacle of Gish.
Greta, still in the form of an old WynSprign woman, wore a large smile as she came into the doorway behind Anah, who looked back at her for reassurance. Then, at Greta’s encouragement, she lowered her few, muddied belongings to the floor.
Lanico was startled at this girl and at his mother’s familiar old WynSprign form. “Ama—" he started, but stopped. Treva entered.
He drew a sharp breath. His heart stopped.
It can’t be.
Impossible.
He stood like a stone, as she looked about, moving into the house in her muddied silver armor.
The familiar name that had nourished his tongue daily for all these years came too softly just then, “Tre-” No. It couldn’t be. But . . . “Treva?!” This time his call edged with joy and confusion. Disbelief. Forgetting all sense of himself or of security—forgetting everything, he dropped Reluctant Leader with a crash to the floor and the world around, all the people in it –blurred. All, except her.
Her eyes darted toward the sound, to her Prince. Her General. Her lost. Her forbidden love.
Treva’s eyes flickered over to meet his. With eyes locked, immediately that hum of power that only she knew, that only she experienced, hummed. It was a familiar, a wonderful snare.
He was on his knees, his mouth gaping a silent scream.
She inhaled. “Lan?!” she whispered; her eyes wide. Her voice cried out, “Odan on High! I thought you dea-!” Her face flushed and her eyes watered. She dropped her bundle and flung herself before him.
He half-rose and caught her with open arms, but the force sent them both back onto the floor. He clutched her with all his strength, embracing her, the special armor he had given her. He inhaled a soft sob mixed with laughter.
“I missed you so . . .” Her muffled cries were buried in his firm shoulder, and he nodded, too emotional to speak.
It is she! Thank Odan on High! My Tre! It was a dream. His mind scrambled as he felt her in his arms, saw the emerald locks of her hair. Heard that voice of dusty cinnamon. He swallowed, stifling the urge to completely break down.
Treva breathed deeply in his arms, and Lanico was hardly aware of those who stood around them, witnessing their heaving breaths, hot tears, and trembling hands.
“I thought you dead as well,” he barely whispered into her ear. “You were shot. The arrow.” His hand brushed the side of her armor. “Your motionless body, y—you . . .” Then Lanico recalled he had not seen her face on that day. He could not bring himself look upon it at the time. “I felt I had died, seeing you lifeless . . . I had to live for Izra, for the promise I agreed to.” He breathed out and his voice was thick, “I’ve missed you so deeply, Tre. There hasn’t been a day, nor an hour, that I haven’t thought of you. That I haven’t dreamt of touching you.” His tears streamed freely. “We’re together. Again.” He could feel her nodding against him now, her ragged breathing pulsing against his neck, her tears pattering onto him. “Together again.”
He pulled back from her slightly. Tears burned in his eyes, and he stilled, gazing at her—taking in her face, her brown-gold eyes. Then he slowly pulled himself upright and she edged back to sit up. Without care, they wiped at each other’s familiar faces and sniffed through soft laughs.
Remembering, Lanico glanced to Marin, who was standing off to the side, misty-eyed with Greta. Lanico, still holding Treva’s shoulders between his hands, prepared for what was next. Another dream.
Living, for the promise, Lanico thought. Together again. His words lingered a moment in his mind, then Lanico caught Marin’s wild stare.
Marin was confused, his heart still racing at hearing her name.
“Tre,” Lanico said once more, lifting her to stand with him. He then turned to Marin. He extended his arm toward the young man. “There’s someone I’d like you to meet. Until now, it was only in my dreams that I witnessed this reunion.”
Marin’s eyes were wide with astonishment, and Treva now looked just as dazzled.
Her misty gaze traveled over Marin, then held his gaze in hers. His black, curly hair, his young-man’s frame. She knew the soft curve of his jaw-line. Lanico didn’t have to say it—her legs trembled beneath her.
“Treva . . . I’d like to introduce you to . . . your son . . . Marin.” Lanico’s voice remained calm. He blinked through the hot sting of tears, working for maintained composure.
Marin, his face astounded, stepped in closer. He put out a tentative hand to touch her arm.
Treva’s mouth opened behind her hand, and she let out a silent shout. She reached her arms around the width of Marin’s shoulders, pulling him to her. The curled tangles of his hair caught in her fingers. She held him tight and cried, from her gut, managing only his name i
n a breath. “Marin.”
She cradled the back of his head in her hand, as she had the last time, when she had held him as a baby. Now he was larger than she. She breathed him in, moved her face along his, feeling skin she had missed all these years, the firm developing muscles of a young man in her grasp. He was the very image of his late father, a dream forbidden for all these years.
“My bae . . . is it really you?” Treva sobbed through her words. “You were only just . . .” She looked up at Lanico with wide, watery eyes. He looked down at them both, smiling through the lump in his throat. No words would come easily. To sum up Marin’s entire lifetime, there were no words.
They cried together, both overjoyed and sad at so many missed memories. She had never been able to warm him with a motherly embrace. She had never witnessed his first strides, heard his first words, was never there to bandage a scraped knee, nor to sing him to sleep during a storm . . . But Lanico was.
Lanico watched the pair with a loving, protector’s gaze. Knowing the need for privacy at their reunion, he quietly turned and ushered the rest of the silent group further into the house, to the dining area. He was the last one to leave them. Just as he was about to leave following the others, Treva turned her head from her son, settling a gaze at him and said quietly, “Thank you.”
Lanico smiled and gave a nod before turning to leave them.
In the dining area, the group followed Lanico’s lead and quickly found chairs at the white wood table. They were all silent and shaken at the events they had just witnessed. Lanico smiled with gladness as he looked around at the group. He cleared his throat and took this time to introduce himself and the others to Anah. Gish and Anah were already familiar with one another and were each pleased at each other’s presence here. To Gish, it meant that she was safe, and to Anah, it meant that he was increasingly on their side—a helpful ally.
Lanico glanced around at everyone and asked, “Ama, were you planning on tending to WynSprign babes again?” He gave a clever smile.
“Ooo!” Greta laughed at herself. “I had quite forgotten about my appearance. We were all just so moved by Treva and Marin . . .” She paused to clear her elderly voice and considered. “No. I prefer to take this appearance for a bit longer.” She looked for understanding from Gish.
Gish had looked confused over who this old woman was, and where she came from, but at Lanico’s first sight of her and his indication that she was friend, not foe, he had relaxed and his face how cleared as he learned this was Greta, the Fray. He quietly leaned over to Anah, who was sitting at his side at the table. “This is Marin’s grandmother. She is a Fray.”
Anah’s eyes grew, and she remained in her chair, looking too overwhelmed to move or even speak.
✽✽✽
After their long, soulful embrace, Treva and Marin stood. Treva smiled and wiped at Marin’s puffy eyes and sniffled herself. They laughed a little. The resulting sound: very similar.
Nodding toward the subtle conversation emanating from the eating room, Treva asked in a whisper, “You ready to go in there?”
Marin sighed, “Guess so,” his voice deeper than a mere boy’s.
“First I want to remove all this armor. I’m not going to war.” She smiled, pulling at a clasp. “I couldn’t bear to part from it.” Her hands made deft movements to remove it all. “It took everything for me to earn it.”
Marin watched, impressed, then remembering himself, began to assist her in taking the armor off, carefully laying the pieces down. What honor and responsibility she must have worked for, to receive this! It was as Lanico had said of her.
After she had put all the pieces in a small, muddy pile on the immaculate floor, Treva pulled him in for one last big soft embrace with her thin form. A real embrace. Then she smiled. “Shall we?”
Marin nodded.
Together they turned to the room where everyone awaited them.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Disobeying
“Come on then, Gramps! Take these carrots and grubs!” The metal bumped against the rails of the cage as Fenner’s own grandson Freck shoved a small spade full of carrots and grubs into his cage. “You’ll need to start eating!”
Fenner was boiling with fury and humiliation. All he could do was cower in the corner. He was made to feel like a wild animal, and for what? For Freck to earn a few gold coins? It’s an outrage! An unspeakable and unimaginable outrage for the youth to betray me!
Despite the hurt that ached within, Fenner said nothing. He kept his back to Freck, holding onto any scrap of pride and rejecting his offers with sealed eyes.
He was at the edge of the Great Mist, at Horse’s Clearing, waiting to be collected as part of Trayvor’s banishment plan for WynSprigns who disobeyed the new rules. Fenner sighed a deep, sad sigh and hunched his shoulders forward.
“Urgh!” his grandson grunted in anger and slammed the spade down. His thin muscles gleamed beneath his brassy-toned skin as grubs wriggled from the bowl of the spade and nestled back into the ground. Freck glowered at his grandfather and stomped through the brush and back off into the distance toward the Great Mist.
How could my own grandson do this? Fenner wondered in disbelief. The betrayal would only grow from here, because this banishment plan now involved the Mysra and their forceful removal of caged WynSprigns back to their own territory. Has he any idea what he is a part of? Fenner swallowed hard. It was a horrible plan. His and Trayvor’s own plan. Now it was going to doom him and his most favored grandson. Freck would learn soon enough and it was to be a hard, unfortunate lesson. Fenner was remorseful.
As Freck’s footsteps faded, Fenner heard rustling from another location in the brush. Heavy steps thudded, twigs snapped, and more leaves rustled. Fenner whirled around, hoping to catch a glimpse of whatever large beast this could be.
“Hey, Fenner,” was the familiar voice that came from the sound. Kindly and Sad.
Fenner’s fear instantly gave way to relief. “Aw, Stout, it’s you,” he sighed. “Whew! I will admit to a strange fact—I’m actually happy that it’s you.” He smiled widely.
Stoutwyn’s gray hair and form greeted Fenner’s eyes through the leafy foliage before he could clearly see his face. Stoutwyn was significantly concerned looking up and down the length of the cage. “This was made by my folk,” he said in a grim tone. With effort, he knelt down next to the cage to be level with Fenner. “I’m certain they had no idea of the true purpose for it.”
“Stout, Trayvor has lost his mind,” Fenner interjected.
“Aye, and we’ll have to figure out what to do to stop the banishment and selling of WynSprigns to the Mysra. The future—our future and the WynSprign’s future—depends on it,” Stoutwyn said frowning, still looking over the well-crafted contraption.
Fenner nodded his black and white streaked mane in response. “That it does, Stout.”
Footsteps were approaching again and Fenner shouted in a whisper, “Stout! Hide!”
Stoutwyn nodded and hobbled back into the brushy cover. His blundering movements sent leaves and small branches swaying. Fenner shook his head and winced at his friend’s clumsiness.
Trayvor was talking to someone as he approached. Fenner narrowed his sights and heat reached his temples at who came into view. This time, they brought Joso! Fenner pleaded silently to the Father Odan that Stoutwyn would remain calm at this and not give himself away at the sight of his boy. With his timid nature, Joso was an easy target for Trayvor—he wouldn’t have made much of a fuss or create a scene.
The young man’s yellow hair hung with his bowed head to cover his face—a face washed red in emotion.
They intend to sell him off too—for a ridiculous, invented crime, no doubt. Fenner could imagine Stoutwyn’s fury, and thought he might spy his friend’s face glaring red in the bushes, which trembled where he hid. He averted his gaze from it.
“Here we are,” Trayvor said with his smug smile as he they came to the large cage placed next to Fenner’s. Trayvor
looked down to dust a few stray leaves off his blue cloak. The capture had left only slight traces of the struggle on his otherwise, pristine appearance.
Freck opened the cage door and gently pushed the big, trembling Joso in.
“This is your new home, for now,” Trayvor continued. “This is what happens when you break curfew.”
“But, I—I—I was only trying to deliver cabbages to Ms. Bre Bricklebury—she forgot them after she paid—I—I wanted to get them to her earlier, but—” Joso nervously stumbled over his words.
“And, you are still guilty of disobeying the rules!” Trayvor interrupted with a shout.
Fenner’s mouth twisted in disgust, but he remained silent. Trayvor had long had his eye on Bre Bricklebury, one of Fenner’s kin, who lived across from the tavern. He must have felt threatened by the unassuming Joso and his alleged ‘late night delivery’. Sadly, Joso likely was trying to deliver her forgotten produce.
Joso remained quiet. He looked down, sad and pathetic.
“We’ll come back soon enough,” Trayvor said as he tapped on the locked cage with his walking stick. He then ushered Freck away with him. Freck avoided eye contact with his grandfather. Together they left on the winding path back to the Great Mist.
Once out of view and earshot, Fenner glanced over to the nervous Joso, who was still trembling like a leaf in the corner of his cage. “Hey! Stout!” Fenner sent a whispered shout out to the still-hidden Stoutwyn. “It’s clear—you can come out.”
Stoutwyn emerged slowly from his brushy cover. He had a defeated, heart-heavy look about him. His gaze fixed on Joso.
“Joso,” Stoutwyn said softly, who looked up with red cheeks and puffy eyes.
“Grandfather?” Joso whispered.
“There, now”—Stoutwyn tried a light tone—"we’ll figure this contraption out, my boy.” Stoutwyn fumbled for the small saw knife he carried in his pocket. His thick fingers found their way around the grip and he pulled it out. “Ha! There now!” he said with a note of triumph and began to saw at the twined ropes that held the cage together.
The Legacy of Lanico: Reclaiming Odana Page 15
