Masolon though Sania must be shocked right now. “I believe it would be more pleasant if you tell me about your childhood,” he said.
“Please, continue,” she encouraged him.
He would talk all day and night to keep those pretty eyes on him. “The raids never stopped in our village. They raid us, we raid them. But we never killed women or children; that was our code. That was what my father taught me. But my father put that code behind his back when they burned our village with all our women and children there.
“We were dragged to a fight away from the village when the bastards made their cowardly attack. My father insisted on returning the injury by burning their whole village and slaughtering all their women and children to put an end to their bloodline. I objected to that, and I was the only one who did. My father said I was a disgrace and threatened to kill me if did not avenge my mother and sisters. That was when I realized I had no place there. My home was my family, and I lost them the day my mother and sisters were burned alive.” And the night I killed my father, he thought but didn't dare to say it.
“Oh dear!” She covered her mouth with her hand. “I feel guilty of reminding you of those horrible memories.”
“Do not worry.” He gazed at her. Seriously, she had the prettiest guilty face ever. “Come on. We have not started your training yet.” He nodded toward the bow she was holding. “Show me how you shoot.”
She fitted an arrow and shot at a palm tree trunk fifteen feet away. Her arrow hit her target (which could be anywhere on the whole trunk), yet her grip and posture needed some adjustment. “You are better than I expected,” he said.
“Don’t fool me.”
“I am serious. Has anybody taught you before?”
“No.” She smiled, his compliment gladdening her. “I just used to watch the archers practicing in our castle.”
“Impressive. Now place your feet shoulder-width apart. Make them pointed toward your trunk.”
“I knew there was some secret.” Sania did what he told her. “Am I ready now?”
“I have not exposed all my secrets yet.” Masolon grinned. “Now nock the arrow and use your left forefinger to rest the arrow on it. Good. Straighten your left arm a bit more, and draw the string to your chin.”
Sania struggled with the bowstring as she pulled it closer to her chin. She loosed, and the arrow hit another trunk at the end of the yard.
“That is what I call an amazing shot!” Masolon hooted.
“Of course.” She looked disappointed. “If only I mean to hit that trunk.”
“You were just busy with the tight string. In time you will get used to it. Now I want you to hit that trunk on purpose.”
“If I was that good, I wouldn’t ask for your help.”
“That good? It is a trunk, Sania! I did not ask you to hit a date at the top,” Masolon teased.
Sania giggled. “That’s embarrassing. I will try my luck then.”
“Let me help you.” He stood behind Sania, his head just above her right shoulder so that both of them had the same vision for the target. “Tilt this bow a little bit.” He gently held her left wrist, making her tilt the bow as he wanted. She seemed to be a bit nervous about his proximity. “I will help you with the string. Just keep your arms steady and focus on your target.” He grasped her right wrist as she drew the bowstring to her chin. “Loose.”
She relaxed her fingers. The arrow soared in a horizontal flight and hit the trunk.
“I did it!” Sania gazed at her distant target then she looked over her shoulder. “Are you done hurting my wrist?”
Alarmed, he let her go at once. “I am really sorry. Are you alright?”
She turned, playfully pushing him in the chest. “Not with you right behind me. Mind your distance, Commander.”
“As you say, milady.” He stepped back. “I guess I know what you need instead of this light bow.”
“And I guess I'm done today. I really need to have some rest after this tiring day.”
Their eyes met in a moment of a silence.
“I hope I am not keeping you from your duties,” she said.
“No, you are not. My current duties compel me to guard your town.”
“So, tomorrow then?”
“Tomorrow,” Masolon replied without even thinking. He wouldn’t mind a series of tomorrows.
***
For ten days, Masolon and Sania hadn't missed a day, doing more chattering than practicing. Since Masolon didn't believe she might be interested in his bloody tales, he let her do most of the talking, and indeed she had a lot to say. From what she told him about her absent lord father, her occupied brother, and her late mother who had been sick most of her last years, Masolon could tell that Sania was in need of someone to listen to her. And fortunately, listening was something he was good at; certainly better at than talking.
Sania told him about the sorceress who used to live in this house, the books Sania had found here, and how her brother had insisted on keeping them away from Arkan because he believed they were cursed, the thrill of mounting a galloping horse, her aversion to the notion of marrying a man she knew nothing about except his name and his title. The last topic piqued Masolon's interest, giving him a glimpse of hope of realizing the impossible.
Every day, Masolon was becoming more sure of his feelings toward her. He always asked himself whether he should tell her or not, but he was afraid of losing her forever. His heart was ecstatic to have her company, and her company was all he had dreamt of. Ruining these enchanting days was the last thing he wanted.
What if she just liked his company without any true feelings toward him? The notion of being rejected by her was a nightmare he tried to avoid.
But what if she really loved him? What could be the possible destiny for such an…affair against the norms of life? Halin's words still echoed in his mind.
Get over it!
Masolon chose to postpone thinking about this dilemma. Why should his mind always be overwhelmed by future consequences? What about living the current moment and enjoying these days in paradise with his charming angel?
On the eleventh day, one of his soldiers brought the crossbow and the bags of bolts he had requested. Masolon rewarded the soldier who brought those rare items with two golden coins, and hurried to Sania's house in Burdi.
Sania's eyes teared with joy as she contemplated her gift. “You can't be serious, Masolon. You brought this to me?”
“Do you like it?”
“Of course.” She held the weapon as if she was testing its weight on her arms. “Where did you find it? We don't use these bows in Murase.”
“From now on you do not have to fit yourself to what you pick.” He winked. He was sure Sania would like the crossbow just because it was not a Murasen thing.
“You still remember, Masolon.” She gave him a lovely smile that made his heart flutter.
“I have nothing to do with it.” He shrugged. “My mind picks what fits it as well.”
“I believe it's our hearts that decide what to remember and what to neglect. Those moments that you love or hate the most are hard to forget.”
“Make the moments you love replace those you hate.”
“It is not that easy, Masolon.” She sighed, shaking her head. “I tried to forgive my father, but I couldn't. Every time I remember that he missed my mother’s funeral my hatred toward him grows.”
“I do not know what to say, but he might—”
“Please, Masolon, don't even try. He could have left his brother and returned. Feras says that I'm not fair with Father. So be it, I'm not fair. I am out of my mind if you like. But I don't feel I can ignore what happened and forgive him.”
Masolon couldn't find anything to say. He had better listen to her and not try to involve himself in her problem with her father.
Sania raised the crossbow and loaded it with a bolt, aiming at one of the palm trees of her yard. “When will you tell me about your love story?”
The sudde
n change in topics caught him off guard. “My love story?” he echoed, giving himself a chance to figure out an answer.
“No need to deny it.” Sania turned to him. “There is nothing in love to be ashamed of, especially when it is with a princess.”
Well, that was escalating quickly, he must say.
“Is her beauty so charming that it makes a commander follow her to the lands of snow?” Sania was staring at him, waiting for his reaction. Curse me! She was referring to Halin. How hadn't he understood that from the beginning?
“Do you think I have a chance with a princess?” he asked.
Sania placed the crossbow on the ground. “It depends. Do you think you deserve her?”
“Of course I do. I am talking about norms.”
“You shouldn't be worried about norms. If she has the same feelings you have, she will do anything to spend the rest of her life with you.”
Masolon pondered what he had just heard to make sure he had comprehended it right.
“Anything?”
“Enough of your wicked tricks!” she said lightly. “I see how you try to confuse me, but I'm not easily distracted. Now tell me about your Rusakian princess.”
“All right,” he said. “What exactly do you want to hear about this princess? Why did I travel to her? Do I bear any feelings toward her? I will tell you the whole story, but let me ask you first, why do you want to know?”
Sania seemed to be struck by the question. “No reason in particular.” She shrugged. “You don't have to answer if you don't want to.”
“I will tell you everything about this journey. Do you know why?” Masolon caught Sania’s gaze. He was going to stun her and even himself. “Because I love you.”
For a couple of seconds, he felt relieved he had uttered those words at last. He was not ready for any more of their twisted conversations. But thinking of her reactions started to make him worried. At this very moment, she was petrified, her cheeks red, her eyes down. Then his heart wobbled when a smile slipped over her face. What did her smile mean? Was she happy? Surprised? No way! Surely, she knew about his feelings; it was obvious. Maybe she did not expect his move.
“Masolon…I…I really don't know what to say.” Her eyes were still avoiding his.
“I tell you what to say. If you feel the same, you say the same.”
“I don't know, Masolon. I'm not sure if I can say the same.”
“You are…not sure?” He remembered that feeling; the feeling of a cold-bladed dagger stabbing him in the heart. Blast! Not again! Memories of the sandstorm of Burdi were resurrected.
“It is not that simple.” Sania finally looked at him. “I like your company, and I don't think I will ever meet a man like you anywhere. Despite your fame as a valorous warrior who fears nothing, you still have a soul that is as pure as that of a child. A man who just does what his instinct tells him it is right. You are one of a kind, Masolon, and you really don't belong to Gorania.” She took a deep breath. “But again, I can't say what you have just said, at least for now.”
Sania's consolations didn't make him feel any better. It wasn't his first shock, yet it was the worst. How was it possible that his judgment had deceived him this time? Unbelievable! He was living the same nightmare again.
“I would say something else,” she said.
Masolon didn't understand her strange smile. It was obvious for him that she was taking the issue lightly, without any consideration for the frustration he felt.
“Ya tebya lyblu.”
It took him a few moments to grasp what he had just heard. That playful girl! She said it! She said it!
He grabbed her waist, lifting her up. “You should be punished for torturing me!”
“Hey!” she shrieked, kicking at his legs. “Let go of me!”
“I will not! I will keep you up the whole day for your games!” Thrilled, he let himself sink in her hazel eyes.
“That's enough.” She pushed his hands, but his lock was firm. “Now put me down. Put me down, I say!”
He would put her on his horse and ride with her in the open desert until eternity. But the desert had eyes…
“Is that an order from Lady Sania?” Her face was too close to his.
“No,” she said, “but I'm afraid you must comply.”
The moment he put her down, she stepped back. “You will be punished for that,” she teased him. “Now go before you do something foolish.” She turned her back, heading to the door of her house.
“I have to go to Arkan,” said Masolon. “We shall resume your training in two or three days later.”
“Three days? Why?” she groused. Masolon liked that.
“It is your brother, my princess. He expects me every two weeks.”
“I can't wait to…resume my training,” she said coyly.
“Me too.” He grinned. “I love your training so much.”
He did not leave the yard until she got herself inside and closed her door. He wished he could stay in that yard forever.
Pull yourself together, Masolon. It is only three cursed days, he thought, fidgeting.
Mounting his stallion, he galloped away from Sania's house. All the way he recalled every sweet moment of that great day. Every word she said, every look, every smile. Over and over again until he approached Kahora. He wished his horse could gallop all the way back to Arkan to finish this irksome journey in one day. But as he had previously agreed with his companions, they would gather at their usual hill near Kahora before he went and reported to his master.
His three captains were there when he arrived. “Anything interesting to tell Lord Feras about?” Masolon asked them.
“Nothing,” Ziyad replied. “Except that your lord is not in Arkan at the moment. He's here in Kahora.”
That was great news. Masolon's return to his sweetheart would be sooner than he had expected. “Do we have any idea why he came?” he asked, noticing the awkward silence among his companions.
“Tell us, Masolon.” Frankil looked at him pointedly. “Is there something we should know about your journey to Rusakia?”
“Something like what?” Masolon asked. “Can you tell me what is wrong?”
Antram, Ziyad, and Frankil looked at each other.
“It's hard to believe the coincidence.” Frankil took the lead. “When I see a Rusakian emissary leaving the king's palace, followed by a royal Murasen messenger traveling to Arkan to summon Lord Feras to Kahora, then I have to ask our commander about what happened when he went to Durberg.”
Blast! A Rusakian emissary! Was it possible that Larovic was after him?
“You are sure Feras has arrived?” Masolon asked.
“I guess he has just entered the palace hall as we speak,” Antram replied.
“We are worried about you, brother,” said Ziyad. “Please tell us that you didn't do anything wrong.”
“We do not have to worry, fellows.” Masolon wasn't sure if he had hidden his worry. He could feel the frost hitting his Murasen paradise.
CHAPTER FIFTY-EIGHT
FERAS
All the way from Arkan to Kahora, Feras couldn't stop thinking what the urgent matter King Rasheed had summoned him for could be. Was it the start of another war? Or probably, an announcement?
As Feras entered the throne hall, he greeted his king and his uncle Lord Munzir. So Munzir had done it last. It was obvious in that victorious smile on his uncle's face.
“How do you find peace, Lord Feras?” Rasheed asked.
As usual, a question hiding something beneath. “Peace is a blessing, no doubt, sire,” Feras answered. “It gives us a chance to replenish and rebuild our forces.”
“It is interesting to hear your notion of peace.” Rasheed grinned. “Actually, that was what I expected from a true warrior like you, Lord Feras.”
Yes, a dedicated and loyal warrior. “Thank you, sire,” Feras said.
“But can't peace be a destination itself, rather than a temporary period of time in an endless chain of war
s?”
“We can never live in everlasting peace, sire, because there will always be enemies.”
“You're right. But you can weaken their greed in what is yours, right?”
What about the greed of your close vassals? Feras glanced at his lord uncle. “I guess I need to learn from your wisdom, Your Majesty.”
“I'm calling your father back from the borders,” Rasheed announced. “The war is over, and he can return to the western region.”
“Really?” Feras hadn't seen that coming. “I mean, that's a wise decision, sire.”
“That's the first decision.”
The first decision? Well, Feras could guess the next one.
“After some deliberations with your uncle, he convinced me to make a crucial move,” Rasheed said, “not only for me, but for the whole kingdom.”
A crucial move for Munzir, no doubt. Feras must admit he had underestimated his lord uncle. On a battlefield, Feras had seen for himself Munzir was a pathetic commander. But he had learned something important from veteran lords like his uncle and Lord Memot; not all battles were fought with steel and horses. There were other battles that occurred in the big and small halls of the palaces and castles. And the truth was, those were the real battles.
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