“This was your mother’s.”
A random thing to say, at least, only because he never spoke of her.
Ever.
He had extended his hand, holding out a small medallion on the end of a thin chain. It glowed a faint blue in the light of the morning sun.
“She would have wanted you to have it.”
The boy was confused, but after a small shake of the piece of jewelry and another affirmation that it was in fact for him, he took it, rolling it between his fingers and thinking of his mother.
Of what she must have looked like.
Her soft voice.
Pale skin and beautiful eyes.
But it was all a dream, conjured by his mind. A hoping mind, but still just a vision, and it too would pass.
It surprised the boy, though, that his father would speak of such things now. Perhaps it had to do with his coming of age and his ordination into the life of a citizen of the empire, though he had not passed the questioning or presentation phase of the initiation yet.
The necklace felt heavy in his hands, but only because tied to it were so many hard questions and unanswered problems. Split ends and broken pieces of the few memories he still retained.
And a lot of what others had told him. He never heard anything from his own father’s mouth. Perhaps he was too ashamed to tell?
Or perhaps he didn’t care?
It was into this world that she awoke. Not entirely, but it was with this last piece of what he retained of his mother that Aviin had purchased Savill’s safety.
The innkeeper did not seem very keen to allow them room and board, especially when they refused to reveal the exact reasons why, but when the medallion was placed before her eyes, the rest of the world seemed to drone out and she thought only of how much it could bring on the right market.
Duly named Dry Tear Stone, it was a rare and precious gem that could only be found in the frozen wastes of the Ice Realm.
A world away.
Promised this in return for her service and no questions, she gladly accepted the offer and bid them on their way. Aviin was reluctant to let go, but he was willing to sacrifice the dead for the living, at least in this one case.
Coming to her senses in a matter of moments, Savill gasped, jerking in the bed and nearly falling from its edge.
An unfamiliar figure stood just at the end, watching her with excited features. Who was he? Her heart pounded, mind still throbbing from the abrupt intrusion to her wonderful sleep.
Aviin made to help her, knowing that she must be exhausted, but she didn’t want that.
“Don’t touch me!” She cried, sending him in retreat with a pained look on his face. “Who are you?”
“Savill, don’t worry, he’s here with me.”
She recognized the voice and scanned the room, her vision still cloudy, but able to make out the form of Duraan crouching on the other side of the bed. Nearly falling to her knees, she embraced him around the neck, pulling him tight and nearly squeezing him to death.
“Duraan! It’s been too long!”
“Yes, yes, it has been. But now you’re killing me….”
Savill released her grasp a bit. “You have no idea how grateful I am to see you.”
“Actually, I can tell. You don’t need to say it again. And I’m glad too, to see you well.”
“There’s so much to tell you. So many things happened while we were apart.” She rose to her feet, smiling down at him and wiping a wet tear from her eye as emotions swept over her.
“I know, I know….”
“No, Duraan, I mean in the rifts. I found him.”
“Found who?”
Caught up in the moment, she had nearly forgotten that there was a complete stranger still standing in the room, watching her, so she turned to face him.
“Who in the five realms is that?”
“That’s Aviin. He’s the one that brought you to me. You could say he’s your guardian angel.”
She laughed, silent, but still audible to his freshly trained mind. “Some angel.”
“Be careful, he can connect with the both of us, and he knows how to read.”
Suddenly, she felt bad for her thoughts, realizing that they might have transferred to him as well.
Another person who could meld? How? She was cocerned by all of this, but let it rest, for the time being.
“My friend said that you saved me?” She directed at him, his face now seeming a bit familiar.
Aviin nodded, shying away from being to forward, thinking back to her frightened reaction of only a few moments ago.
“Yes, you could say that. I kept you from being put into the Emperor’s hands.”
“Aviin…” Her mind began to turn as things clicked together and the puzzle fit itself into place. “I know that name.”
“Yes, you should. I told it to you more than enough.”
. Across Sorrow’s Embrace .
- Sixth Age, year 1014
Uurda was no place for a child.
And children leading children? Like stock, blinded by the fear of an approaching predator, running for the edge.
But Lyrus had no intention of letting anything happen to the youngest of his family. They had taken the rest, but they would not take this one.
He had vowed, swore an oath, something that he had never done before, and now…it had to stay true. It was not that he feared consequences, he didn’t actually fear very much at all, but rather, he hated the thought of not being in control.
“Sansa.” He shook the boy’s form, trying to wake him, but carefully. “Sansa, it’s time you got up.”
The sun had risen a great way into the sky already, warmth dripping on the land…and drying it like reeds to shake in the wind. This was why they had to move west.
This was why they had to find father.
Yes, a worthy quest for such a boy as this.
Do not think me harsh, or crude, though. There were many who turned a mocking face and laughed that day. It is a fact that you will have to come to grips with, that is, that some make stupid choices.
And I never miss an opportunity to exploit them for it.
Though, this one had a rare tenacity that is hard found among men, even great men.
They had walked from the Kryll plains, over hill and wild to reach the lower plateaus of the tired basin, hanging low in the earth. Farther south lay Arribinthia, nestled against the cool embrace of Trita-fok and lapping at its shores. To the west, in their direction, was the sea.
It was only then that he realized the true immensity of the world that they had been born into. Before them, stretched like skins on a rack, rolled away an endless covering of dirt and scrub. A thin stretch of mountains barred their entrance into the western lands. They would cross them, at some point.
But for now, they needed food.
“Sansa, wake up.”
The young child peered at him through half shut and groggy eyes, grinding at them with his fists. Lyrus tenderly pulled them away and used the hem of his shirt to wipe away the crusted dirt from his face.
“Sansa, I need you to help me with something. We’re going to camp here for a few days and rest, but we need a shelter. Can you do it?”
His proposal was met with another question laden with a bit more snap, “Who made you my boss?”
No one had said anything about being in charge. They were brothers, that’s what brother’s do. But he understood that lack of food and sleep, and all else that a growing child needs, certainly wasn’t helping his mood, so he knelt down next to him and spoke softly.
“Sansa, I know it’s hard, but if we work together, then nothing will stop us from finding father again. Do you want that?” He asked, smiling at him.
“I want to sleep.” The boy complained, rolling over and tucking himself into a fetal position. “I want to go home.”
His attempts at convincing Sansa to help were futile, despite the kind words and soft voice. It wasn’t in Lyrus’ nature to get angry, and not in his bro
ther’s to listen. So he stopped trying.
Yes, wouldn’t they all like to go home.
He stared off into the distance again, finding himself in visions of all that was lost. Even then, he could feel that dark entity bearing down on them. Only a presence, and far away, but still there.
They didn’t have a home anymore. They didn’t belong to anything.
And they needed food, badly.
Below them lay the stark remnants of a once thriving market town, but as of recent years many of the settlers had gone off to other places in search of greater wealth. Now, the town remained, but the spirit that had once enlivened its streets was fled away.
A thieves’ city. It was no place for them.
After what had happened with Mr. Quintery….
No, home was gone.
So very, very far away from what they had before. The distanced they had traveled alone was enough to bar them from every returning again. But that was not the only reason.
He thought of his mother. Her beautiful voice, calling to them from the house to come and eat.
Maritha, and how she used to annoy him by tickling a stalk of grass in his ear.
It drove down into him with great force, pounding air from his lungs and the swelling of emotion rise through his chest to his lips, then his eyes, then spilling out like clouds laden for too long and squeezed by the warmer temperatures.
Ripport, the Fytleck, too came jumping through the shaking grass to lick at his fingers.
To mock his pain.
And he asked himself on question, so simple and so easy, yet brimming with irony.
Is this even worth it?