And, he knew what she’d meant.
✽✽✽
Earlier, Greta and Anah had remained indoors, where Greta riffled through her large chest of collected weapons, blankets, and clothes. Flurries of fabric and miscellaneous items were tossed from the chest and littered the ground. It seemed the Fray had every sort of weapon, armor, and clothing, except, to Anah’s slight disappointment, a pick-axe.
Still, Greta was determined to find something small enough for Anah to wear. The young WynSprign didn’t seem to care about her clothing, but Greta insisted on finding her something else. The girl needn’t adorn rags. Just when the Fray thought she had run out of her smallest clothes, she remembered Marin’s tunic—she had already given him a new tunic from her collection, for his had become too small for his growing frame. She had already cleaned and mended it. It would do perfectly. She would give that one to Anah.
When they’d first arrived Anah had been so spent that she’d fallen asleep after tea and a meal, without having the opportunity to clean herself. Now Greta had filled a hot bath in the small pool in her home’s bathing room and waited at the door but held her gaze away from Anah. The girl was anxious to clean herself up, sorely conscious of her muddied appearance. She stripped off her dirt-laden clothes and entered the pool, then Greta quickly gathered the clothes and decided to clean and mend them as well as she could, given that, they were more rags than clothes. She left Anah alone to bathe.
Anah peered around at the small room that was still larger than the only hut-home she had ever known. As it was with all of Greta’s rooms, this one was ethereal glowing white with a thick matting of trees for walls. Anah cautiously peered between the thickly entwined branches and was relieved that there was no way to see outside—or in—through the tightly woven branches and trunks.
The pool was a small white circle in the center of the room. Anah had never taken a warm bath before but had imagined it after Treva’s descriptions. This hot, steamy water looked like thinned milk and smelled of a wonderful flowery fragrance. As a slave, she had only ever cleansed herself with a bucket and rag or in a pond—but it was never warm and certainly never smelled of flowers.
The hot prickling water had taken her foot, then her leg, then the other leg, and then the rest of her. It was the most satisfying feeling she had ever experienced. Once the water reached her shoulders, she leaned back slowly, dunking her head. Her muscles relaxed and melted to become hot liquid, too. As soon as she’d settled her whole body into the bath, she felt herself calmed and enjoyed the warmth enveloping her. The mud loosened and fell away to reveal the waves of her gorgeous deep-red hair. A brilliant burgundy.
“Ooo . . . feeling clean like this is an absolute blessing,” she quietly moaned to herself. She let the water still around her as she soaked and relaxed. Steam rose and delicately danced in swirls above her, and at that, she thought she might never come out.
Greta left the clean and mended clothes—including Marin’s old tunic—just inside the door for Anah’s finding.
✽✽✽
Awestricken, Gish and Marin paused their own sparring to watch Treva and Lanico spar. The two were off in the distance. Marin was no stranger to training with Lanico, but he’d never seem him move quite like this, with an equal. Treva was a challenge and brought out a hidden energy and strength that Marin didn’t know existed in his father. He was amazed by them. Stunned. But reality hit. They had work of their own.
“All right, Gish. Let’s get back at it again,” Marin challenged, his flushed face turned back to the lumbering Mysra. They were practicing near the ethereal home.
Gish was reluctant and knew only about fighting with his trusted knife, but Lanico had urged him to learn a bit about the sword. Gish had explained that Mysra were not used to using swords in their battles or in personal fighting—not since before the Battle of Odana, and that had been before he was even born. During the old time, the Mysra fought with swords, knives, bows and arrows, and more. Only a few Mysra were trained in sword fighting these days, and those were the castle guards and Grude himself.
Gish felt clumsy and awkward with the long sword, as Lanico instructed him on his stance. He and Marin continued to practice back and forth slowly, and from his distance in the glade, Lanico was most pleased to see Gish taking on the basics so well. He was also proud of Marin’s assistance and instruction.
They paused once more at the sound of Greta’s door moaning open. The practicing pair slide their eyes toward the sound. Anah emerged—and Marin’s heart skipped.
Anah nervously fumbled a crimson section of hair with her wrinkled fingertips, turning her eyes to his. She was clothed in a radiant white tunic—Marin’s own tunic, he recognized. For Anah it was a bit too large, but to Marin, she looked gorgeous. He didn’t know why, but for some reason something about seeing her in his tunic, made him feel . . . he didn’t know. Her rich red hair, still damp, was brilliant against the white fabric. She looked . . . new.
Marin forgot himself and dropped his sword.
Lanico yelled from somewhere in the background, for Marin to focus!
Marin blinked at the sound of Lanico’s voice in the distance. Fires he notices everything! Embarressed, a rush of warmth rose to his cheeks.
And Anah smiled at him.
Chapter Thirty
The fluttering of winged things
Night covered the Odana forest and Gish, drained from all the training, retired early. His bulky muscles weren’t used to training in such an intense way as he had been. He retreated to the sleeping den he would share with Marin and Lanico, now in one room since the women had arrived. As with the night before, they would all hear the snores of his deep slumber but now, this would intensify in the closed-in quarters.
Lanico, Marin, and Treva sat in the eating room with Greta, who set down a teakettle and cups for her dew tea. She had fruit, cheeses, and biscuits set out as well for them to snack on. She poured the tea into two cups for Treva and Lanico and served Marin fresh water instead.
“Water for the boy—it’s better for him than tea,” she said with finality after his inquiring for his own tea cut.
No one questioned that decision. At this point, drinking anything liquid was most welcome and the small spread of food she had set out was most delightful to look at and eat.
Greta presided at the table and smiled in contentment as Lanico drank the tea and discussed with them all the old days they’d shared, before the battle. Treva shared old memories of the times she and Lanico came at odds with one another during the early days of her training. They exchanged laughs.
Lanico sat enthralled by just the sound of Treva’s voice as she spoke of far-off lands they had once traversed. Sultry. How could he have forgotten it? He had memorized every detail about her, but somehow had forgotten that. The dusty cinnamon of it.
She caught him watching her and gave a slow half smile, the kind that made him breathe deeply. That was short-lived because the next glance he cast at her, reminded him of the complex creature that she had always been. True to the nature of Treva, in one moment she was glowing, gorgeous, enchanting, and then, in another moment, the crude, feral, gritty warrior he remembered.
Treva palmed a small paring knife and dug at something stuck between her teeth, and then, without noticing the raised eyebrows of the others around her, resumed at her tea as normal—pinky raised and graceful. Lanico huffed a silent laugh at this—the wild, untamed Treva.
✽✽✽
The recounting of days past, was stretching far into the evening. It wasn’t long before Marin wandered away from the table and strolled outside. He glanced up at the black velvet sky, covered with an endless array of twinkling silver stars. The moon had become a thin sliver that brought sparse light to the world below. The Odana River rushed quietly beside the house, its streaming waves reflecting the dim, wavering light from above. Fireflies danced just over the water’s black surface. Not just any fireflies—these were of many colors. They danced and eac
h reflected against the others’ mirrored bodies, while silky black fish came from within the inky water and plucked them into their mouths and into impending doom.
Marin then noticed other movement near the water.
His eyes adjusted to the dim outline of Anah. He had thought her asleep in the den that she was to share with his mother. But, no. She was sitting on a large boulder at the edge of the river. She, too, was studying the dancing fireflies, her faced him. The white tunic was long for her shorter, smaller frame. It hung over the rock as she languidly traced patterns on the water’s surface with a long stick.
Marin marveled at her. She was beautiful beyond anything he understood, more beautiful than anyone he had ever encountered. Wild. Free. An adventure unto herself. Yet she had gone through her entire life in such an unimaginable way—as a slave. He studied her. Treva had known her since she was a child and told him that Anah was likely near the same age as he. We may be of similar same age, but we’re worlds apart in life itself.
He carefully and slowly opened the door, to begin a quiet approach toward her, striding smoothly through the thin grasses. He did not want to alarm her, and take from her any peace she was having. She seemed wild and he didn’t know how she would react if he just charged right up to her. He drew closer, uncertain of what he’d say. He felt as if the dancing fireflies were now flitting around in his stomach.
He clenched his fists and loosened them, unsure what to do with his hands. With every step, his heart thumped that much faster. Anah wouldn’t be able to hear the whisper of his footsteps this close to the river, and he came close, right behind her. The gentle breeze carried to him the fragrant scent from her recent bath. He wanted to touch a tendril of her wine-crimson hair, or the smoothness of her hand that rested on the rock, just there. He dared to come in closer, his breath cool.
Anah turned quickly to see Marin’s glowing eyes directly before her, nose to nose. Surprised, she swung her stick to whip across his face, and the force of that lightning strike sent him backward with a thud.
“Ah!”—she winced—"I—Oh, I’m so sorry, Marin!” She dropped the stick and scrambled off the rock to kneel beside a stunned Marin. He held his cheek and jaw in radiating pain and opened his glowing eyes wide in disbelief, moaning. She came close to him and touched his cheek with a soft hand. “Are you okay? I am so sorry, Marin. I didn’t expect . . . well, anyone.” Her hand was soft and gentle against the throbbing of his face. Her green eyes were large with concern, glowing down at him. Emerald lit fires.
She said my name. Spellbound, through the sting of pain he managed a clenched mutter: “No, Anah, I’m so sorry. I swear, I—I didn’t want to scare you.” His eyes met hers, and the pain instantly forgotten.
✽✽✽
“She got him good,” Lanico chuckled under his breath, watching from inside the screened door. He could see that his boy was largely unharmed. Directly after the strike, Marin had made one sprightly move to stand and now the two were engaged in conversation. He could see the boy fumbling his hands.
After determining the two were safe outside, Lanico turned with his steaming cup of dew tea to walk back into the eating room. There Greta was taking plates and used cups into the kitchen. Treva went in after her carrying the kettle and a tray. Everything seems fine in here, he thought contentedly. He turned and walked back toward the front of the house to relax in the sitting room, only steps from the door. I’ll just stay here, near—to make sure they’re fine.
✽✽✽
Treva wanted to help put away the dirtied dishes, and Greta was thankful for the offer but rejected assistance. Using delicate hand movements, she conjured a littlw spell, and the dishes responded to her command. They miraculously cleaned themselves in the sink full of hot, soapy water. After submersion and bubbling, they floated briefly, sparkling with cleanliness, and laid themselves flat to dry. They gleamed as they lay on the counter, now still. Greta turned to an impressed Treva and smiled.
“Well, I guess you didn’t need my assistance,” Treva said with a laugh.
“No, dear. It’s my pleasure, really, to do the work sometimes; it makes me feel like this house is more like a home.” Greta turned from her.
To Treva it seemed it wasn’t really by ‘work’ that the Fray had washed their dishes, but nonetheless, she missed all the old times with Greta. Despite her Fray or WynSprign appearance, she was still the same lovely being, full of kindness and life. She had hidden her powers so well in the old days that Treva remained amazed at the recent revelation. She had never quite noticed the Fray qualities in Lanico in all that time they had spent together, either. The signs now seemed so apparent.
Greta looked down at Treva. Her expression was warm. As if reading her mind, she sighed, “I missed you, too.”
Treva reached out and squeezed her hand.
“Well,” Greta sighed with contentment, “I’m retiring in to bed now my dear. Don’t stay up too late . . .” She shifted her gaze toward the sitting room. “Oh!”—she picked up the remaining cup from the table and handed it to Treva—"Please finish the rest of your dew tea.”
“Oh. Oh yes, I shall,” Treva smiled, lifting the cup of bitter brew to her mouth. “It’s . . . uh,” she looked into the cup of swirling red liquid, “nice,” she managed through the small lie.
Greta pursed her lips, closed her eyes lightly, and nodded. The Fray then turned and glided down the hall toward her sleeping room, taking her yellow glowing aura with her. When she entered her room, all the rooms of the house grew dim. It seemed that night came when Greta slept.
Treva dutifully drank the bitter tea, throwing it back with a tilt of the cup. “Glahhh,” she said, twisting her face at the horrid taste. Then she walked into the sitting room where Lanico sat on a chair, drinking his own tea, watching the steam rise in a thin slither. It was hot this evening, but drinking this hot dew tea was a way to get needed nutrients—or so his mother had told them.
Treva was silent as she glanced out through the door into the inky black of night. She was thoughtful over Marin out there, beyond where she could see him. He seemed to be a happy, healthy, young WynSprign man. She didn’t know quite how to say ‘Thank you’ to Lanico. Thank you for raising my son as your own. Thank you for every meal, every stitch of clothing, for every lesson, for—She bit her lip looking out. Aware of Lanico’s stare on her, she turned to him. It was almost silent in the room between them—unlike the afternoon’s clash of swords and swoosh of blades slicing the air – their common language. His blue eyes met hers, as if he were inviting her to come over to him. She accepted, and then knelt down next to him.
“Lanico”—her voice was soft with seriousness—"I wanted to give you my deepest thanks and gratitude.” She exhaled, “Thank you for raising Marin all these years and making him into such a wonderful young man. It’s all gratitude to you that he turned out . . . so amazing.” She looked at him, but his blue gaze revealed nothing. It was the best she could say in that moment.
The corners of his mouth slowly turned up. “Well, Treva, I don’t know,” he said with a hint of sly mischief. Holding her stare, he jerked his chin to the door. She stood slowly, and her stiff tunic fell in flat folds as she crossed to take a better glance through the door. She could just make out Anah and Marin sitting together on top of the gray boulder at the river, looking out over the dancing fireflies. Marin was trying to snuggle in closer to Anah. She hadn’t noticed them, together, a moment ago.
“Ah . . . I see.” Her voice was tender.
“Yes”—Lanico shifted in the chair—"He never held an interest in anyone back at the Great Mist. It warms me to see him searching his heart for another.”
Treva stood in the doorway watching young friendship blossom near the riverbank. Her long, light brown tunic hung loosely on her, and she was aware that the shapely, muscular build she once had was now thin. Her rich green hair now lay against the tan of her skin she’d regained from the days of her escape, not the paleness of her years toiling
in the mines. She was tough, though, perhaps even tougher than before . . . if that were possible.
✽✽✽
To Lanico, somehow Treva was even more beautiful than he could ever remember. She was a strong, striking beauty, bold as the war shouts that roared from her core. The thin scar that ran from the left side of her nose to the top of her lip was a visual reminder of her grit. Though time had changed some things about her, she was now the woman he loved—had always loved.
Lanico set his cup of tea down on the table near him. He straightened in his chair and began to take off his white tunic. The air was still hot inside the house. Marin was going to be outside for a bit with Anah, and he wanted to get comfortable and relax before bedding. He shrugged out of his tunic to reveal the large, toned arm muscles of a WynSprign man of half his age. The tooth necklace bounced down between his clavicles as he lifted the long-sleeved shirt over his head. His straight silver hair cascaded around him in perfect smooth order.
Lanico reclined a bit in the chair, closing his eyes lightly, resting his arms on the arm rests of the chair, exhaling. It had been a long, hot day, and he hadn’t trained that hard in years. The chair creaked slightly with his movement. Then, silence. In his moment of serenity, he felt the gaze of Treva upon him. He sat up quickly, remembering himself. He was too casual, and quickly blinked the sleepiness away.
✽✽✽
Treva turned and looked back at him where he sat with his eyes closed. He was a gorgeous sight, the most beautiful thing she could remember having seen. He kept up his training and ate well over the years—and his body . . . Oh fires . . . No. She couldn’t and shouldn’t have any affection for him on that level. After all, he had rejected her all those years ago due to his status—her status.
The Legacy of Lanico: Reclaiming Odana Page 17
