“Did you not hear that only one of the horses was mounted leaving the other three without riders?” he asked.
“I,” I said as I stammered for words. “How,” I said again, but could not finish.
“I gather that you did not then,” he said as he quickly dismounted.
“What,” I said again.
“Quickly, we have not much time, gather everything you can and push the cart as far into the woods as you can. But be quick, she is coming,” he said hurrying over to my sisters.
I watched him reach into his pouch for another small vial of liquid, “Move!” he commanded. I pushed the cart as far as I thought his grave expression would allow before calling me back. When I returned, I saw both of my sisters sitting atop one of the horses each, their hands bound to the pommels and gags in their mouths. I was initially angered by his treatment of them, but then remembered it was necessary.
As I mounted the last of the four horses, I asked, “Who is coming?”
“Our death if we are not quickly away from here. Pray her tracking skills are not as developed as her fighting skills. Though she was able to find us thus far,” he said as he commanded his horse forward, the two ridden by my sisters following quickly.
I spurred my horse and caught up with him. I saw that the two horses my sisters were riding were bound to his horse so they could not be turned away. As I passed them, and although their consciousnesses were muted by the potion, behind the haze I saw rage, a deep rage, a heavy rage. Indeed, they were not who I remembered, and I was beginning to doubt whether they ever would be again.
“Who is coming?” I asked him again.
“She is coming,” he said placing emphasis on the word ‘she’ as if I should know who he meant. “Now enough speaking, we have to ride and ride quickly,” he said and pushed the three horses into a gallop requiring I do the same.
We left the sparse trees like a wizard’s spell as it streaked from his fingers. Thundering as fast as we could, we were covering ground quickly, but I did not know where Kinarin had chosen to lead us. Though, in all reality, it did not matter where we were going as long as it was fast and far. I suspected we were heading toward Pretago Cor, but I was not sure. I took a chance to glance back to my sisters and saw the rage in their eyes had not subsided. Instead, it seemed to be growing, if that was possible.
As the sun progressed and we left the forest and Haberdale in the distance, our horses could no longer keep the pace Kinarin had demanded and we slowed to a trot. Soon after that, he slowed them completely and dismounted. “Here. We need to rest the horses for a short time.” Following his lead, I dismounted too and untied my water skin. I took a small drink and walked to my sisters to offer them the same.
“Do not waste the water,” he said. “I doubt they will drink.”
“Kinarin, they may not be who they once were, but they are still my sisters,” I said as I approached Hithelyn. I untied her gag and lowered it from her mouth. When I lifted my waterskin, she bent her head back as if to drink. However, I became fully aware of Kinarin’s correctness as she bit down hard on my finger seeking to bit it off. My waterskin dropped. In an instant, Kinarin was next to me prying her jaws apart by applying pressure to her cheeks. He was quick enough to prevent her from biting to the bone, but not so quick that she did not draw some blood. Once my fingers were free, he let go.
“I hate you!” screamed Hithelyn. “I hate you for killing Drahin!”
“I did not kill him!” I shouted back as I held my bitten fingers.
“Yes, you did! He left with you and then he never came back! You killed him!” she shouted.
Even knowing that my sisters had only shreds of their innocent identities left, I could not help but realize the truth of Hithelyn’s words. They pierced into my sorrow and held me hostage to the hope that I may, one day, set things right. My very redemption depended on such. But for now, there was nothing I could do but stand silently as she continued her verbal accusations and assault on my deadened heart.
“And mother too! You killed mother too!” she shouted coming completely unhinged with hatred and rage.
Kinarin started to retie her gag, “No,” I said to him, “let her speak.”
“Let me speak? As if you have any control or claim to us. You killed our Drahin and Drashin. We are dead to you!” she said as her hate bored into my hopes. I looked to Jinola to see if there was any shred of caring in her eyes but saw the same hatred her sister possessed.
“We are going to kill you,” she said as she eerily stopped yelling. “We are going to kill you, bother,” she said again, spitting the last word.
“Enough!” I yelled, bursting from her accusations. “What would you have me do? Would you have had me do nothing and stand by while you were tortured and turned into,” I paused looking for a single word to capture the desperate evil they had no become.
“Into what?” answered Hithelyn. “What is it you think we are?”
“I do not know, but I know you are not what Drahin and Drashin would have wanted,” I said hoping the invocation of our parents would reach somewhere, anywhere inside her. But my hopes were dashed and shattered against the fullness of hate inside her heart.
“How dare you speak to me of father and mother!” she shouted again. “What right do you have? You are nothing to them and nothing to us. You are a murderer! And you speak to us as if we are wrong! You are nothing,” she said. While her words ceased their onslaught, her eyes continued to stab into my dreams for redemption.
“Enough,” I said.
“Enough?” she shouted again. “It will never be enough until you are dead by our blades!”
“Alright,” said Kinarin as he quickly wrapped the gag around her again, all the while she was violently protesting and trying to bite him. After he secured it in place, he walked over to me and placed a hand on my shoulder, “Are you ok?”
But he did not need to hear my answer to know. All he needed to do was to see my eyes to appropriately judge the hollowness in my soul. Perhaps progressing through the absolute absurdity of circumstances I had been through in the recent months allowed me to reach into a depth of resolution allowable only through the darkest of sorrows when catalyzed by the harshness of my sister’s truth, or perhaps I had reached a true sense of numbness dissolving all of my ability to connect with my emotions; however, regardless of the reasons, in this moment, I simply did not feel. Something had silently snapped.
“Yes,” I said as I stared into the distance.
“Drin,” he said again, “are you able to continue?”
I turned to face him. He must have seen the subtle change because I saw his eyes squint as if trying to examine what they could not readily see, “Yes,” I said again. “Now let us go.”
We both silently mounted our horses putting them to a quick pace. It was now getting very late in the day. Clouds were beginning to gather in the western sky, clouds that did not offer much consolidation. They were dark and they were thick and they reflected my inner thoughts that dwelt upon my family. Regardless of how much time had passed since my departure from the youth of my home, it was beginning to feel like they were not my memories. It was almost like I had observed a stranger’s life throughout its entirely and now was free to judge it as if I was an objective and harsh observer. Oh, I had attempted to blame it on everything and everyone, but I was still the centralized commonality linking everything together. All my misery, all my unfortunate coincidences, and every bit of my sorrow had been generated by no one other than myself. Regardless of whom or what I blamed, I could not escape my own objective condemnation that I had been the common link to so much pain and sorrow.
The last truly pleasant memory I had was of Mylanas Ishanduil, the defining element of beauty made mortal by gods who were cruel enough to grant me just one night with her. But even her effect could not pierce the dread of doom that encircled me. What was it she called me? The Blade? I remember believing her as if her spoken words were a truth not open
to interpretation; that just by speaking to me, she gave me validation and redemption from all the horrible possibilities life held before I embarked on the journey that would kill my father. God, I wanted to feel that again; to feel her again – the complete confidence she instilled with just a look and smile. What I would give to hear her voice again? Exceeding all potential dreams of a provincial sixteen-year-old boy, was her divinely enthralling, almost haunting, vocal melody of perfection only she could evoke. More powerful than any wizard’s spell I had ever heard tell tale of, was the hopelessly demanding beauty of her song.
I thought back to the Festival of the Moons, my last Festival of the Moons, and desperately wanted to possess the power to turn back the wheel of time and exist only in that moment. Not the moment when we shared the night following the feast, but the moment when I first heard her voice, for it held the key to my broken happiness. In the innocence of my ears and heart, I longed to possess the naivety to be raptured like that once again. But that is exactly what I did not have. Driven from me the way a rampaging stampeded of huge beasts drives away the peacefulness of a soundless dawn, my innocence had been driven far beyond my mortal ability for redemption. For redemption was beyond my acknowledgement, and as such, so was my soul.
We continued to ride into the night until our horses and my sisters could ride no longer. As empowered by the darkness as they had become, and who knows what they had been taught at the hands of the profound evil I could not begin to comprehend, they were still very young and very susceptible to weariness. When Kinarin happened a glance behind him and saw Jinola almost dangling by the bindings of her hands to the pommel, he pulled to a quick halt. I saw him hurriedly dismount and rush to her side. Supporting her with one hand and untying the ropes that hand been holding her onto the horse, he cradled her like I had seen my father do many times. Weary to the point of drowsiness, she resembled the sister I remembered, the sister I had before darkness reared its consuming presence. I looked over to Hithelyn and saw her head nodding as well. She was the fighter, always hanging on to the very last moment before she relinquished her demands and acquiesced to my parents’ wishes. But she too was beyond the point of fight and fell to the side. Prevented from hitting the ground by only her ropes, just like her sister, I rushed to her side as Kinarin had to Jinola’s. It did not matter that she had verbally assaulted me a short while ago. What mattered was that she was still my sister and nothing could change that. Not even her hate.
We both eased them to the ground, however, we could not risk their escape, or any other nefarious acts, so we did not unbind them before setting them down. They were so exhausted that they failed to wake. Even if we were not extra tender with their handling, I was sure they would not have woken regardless. Seeing them peacefully breathe while trapped by the more tightly wound binds of slumber, I could not help but remember the last night we spent together as a family. Both of my sisters had taken such joy in retelling stories about me. We talked well into the night so much so that they both had fallen asleep in my arms, one on each side. In this moment, seeing both my sisters breathe the easy, rhythmical breaths they did so many nights ago gave me some hope that they could return to something resembling what they were. This was indeed one of those moments where I would have heard my mother say “Remember the moment”.
But the silent peace did not last, “Drin, are you ok?”
Again, had it been months ago, even only as recent as a few days ago, I would have responded with a respectful indication that I was ok; but it was not and so I did not, “What do you think?” I asked him taking no precautions to hide my emotionally exhausted countenance.
“I think you are not,” he said stoically.
“Well, then you would be right,” I said as I turned around.
“Drin, there are many things the world does,” he began.
“Do not belittle me with that bullshit!” I shot back, uncharacteristically cutting him off from what would have undoubtedly been a wise and fulfilling speech. But I was beyond wisdom and speeches to be heard. It was my time to be heard. It was my time to speak. And speak I did, “I do not want to hear about any creeds or philosophies or how the world works. I do not want to hear about anything anyone can say to me to try and make me feel better. I do not want to hear about how things will get better and how the sun will rise again. I do not want to hear about what I should do or what I should be, and I do not want to hear anything about what I should prepare for! I am tired of all this! I am tired of killing and being killed! I am tired of powers and evil versus good! I want no part of it!” I said as I finished by escalating to a yell. I was beyond the point of restraint, so when I finished, and the tears spilled onto my cheeks, I did not try to restrain them.
“What is it you want, Drin?” he asked calmly.
“What do I want?” I shouted back at him. “What do I want?”
“Yes, what is it you want?” he repeated as calmly as he had first asked.
“I want my father back! I want my mother back!” I said, tears streaming down my face.
“Is that all?” he asked calmly.
“No!” I shouted back. “I want revenge!”
Expecting him to give me a lecture on how assassins kill only when assigned by the guild, I was somewhat shocked when he said, “Good. So do I.”
“What?” I asked thinking that I must have misheard him.
“Revenge. I want that too,” he said as he took a couple of steps closer to me.
Disarmed by his candid admission, I stopped yelling altogether and responded with, “Oh.”
“Do you think me completely void of emotions?” he asked.
“Well,” I said, “no. But I did not think it would have affected you like it did me.”
“Drin, did I not tell you that we shared the same name?” he asked motioning me to sit next to him.
“Yes, you did,” I said as I remembered our last conversation before he left to collect the supplies we needed in Haberdale.
“And do you think that was just coincidental? That I happened to possess both your first and last name because of chance?”
“No, I guess.”
“What do you suppose that means then, if not by chance?” he asked.
“I suppose it means we are family?” I said, more of a question than a statement.
“Well, you are right,” he said, “I am your uncle. Your father’s brother.”
“They never said anything about you,” I said.
“They would not, I suppose. They had thought I was dead,” he said, looking somewhere beyond me into his memories.
“Why would they think that?” I asked.
“For the same reason as you. I did not complete my own selection journey.”
“What happened?” I asked.
“I guess you could say it was very similar to what happened to you.”
“But Grandfather did not die?” I asked somewhat disbelieving him.
“No. Not that similar. But I did have an encounter with The Guild. And for whatever reason, they thought I showed some talent,” he said as he leaned back.
I mimicked him, “But why did they think you dead?”
“As I am sure you will find out once we get to Pretago Cor, there can be no connections to The Guild. We thrive and exist because of our anonymity and discretion. Because of this, all members who join the guild have their family connections severed. In my case, my parents received a communication from the local city guard stating that I had been convicted of treason against the throne and sentenced to death,” he said as he looked to the stars, but none could be seen because of the clouds.
“How did you find me?” I asked.
“I have been watching over you and your family for a while now, at least when my time away from The Guild permitted it,” he said. “It was only by chance that I was at the location for your selection.”
“Were you one of the two assassins I saw that night?” I asked as I remembered their grey lethality.
“No.
Those were students completing their last test. I was there to observe and, if needed, if they failed, to complete the contract. I was also there to make sure there were no witnesses. That is when I saw you,” he said turning toward me.
“You were going to kill me?” I asked.
“Yes,” he said allowing silence to grow.
“Why did you not?”
“I recognized you, Drin. Once I did, I knew I could not kill you. But I had to ensure your silence, so I offered you the same offer that was presented to me,” he said.
I was tired; tired of running, tired of fighting, tired of killing, tired of struggling, but most of all, I was just tired of being tired. I was so tired, in fact, that if I did not keep moving, I feared I might sleep without the chance to wake again, ever again. I glance over to my sisters who were silently sleeping, no doubt, each tired in their own way. We both sat silently, allowing the peace of the moment to draw from seconds, into minutes, and minutes into hours. During that time, I considered many things, but most of all I thought of the farm, my farm, my father’s farm, a farm that would not be again.
The farm. It held such constancy for me. I never thought I would be away from it, at least, not permanently. From the very first time I remembered having any understanding of the future, I remembered dreaming of working it with my father until his hair was white. I had dreams of raising my family, when I eventually had one, on the farm, just as I had been. Yes, I knew my sisters would eventually marry and leave; however, as a son, my fate was to carry on my father’s work and legacy. Up until the time of his passing, his legacy was composed of equal portions of peace and constancy. However, I quickly found out that life away from the protective blanket of the farm was harsh and changing.
“Do you ever miss it?” I asked him, breaking the silence, “The farm, I mean. The simple life without killing. Do you ever miss it?”
“No. Not anymore,” he said as his eyes grew distant. “There was a time where I would have given anything to have it back again, but that time is gone now.”
“But if you could have it all back again, would you?” I asked him.
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