Iviana often thought of one island in particular she wished to visit again: the “lost” Isle of Atlantyss. On her former quest, she had happened upon there hidden underwater city and discovered a whole secret society who served the Great One freely and passionately. Because of this, they flourished as a prosperous, technologically and mentally advanced people.
Long ago, the Great One had hidden them within a protective dome at the bottom of the sea that they would be set apart from the rest of the realm. It was prophesied that, one day, when the world was ready for them, they would be raised to the surface again and be used greatly for the advancement of the Greater Archipelagos. Iviana could only dream of such a day. She had loved their city immensely and the refreshing people had left an impact on her.
She had made a couple of young friends there by the names of Aedis and Merrick who were inventive geniuses. It was these two she missed the most, for though the three had spent only a few hours together, they had been kindred spirits.
It was at times such as these she recalled the acceptance she had felt there, craving it once more. She was glad she had Tragor that she could be free to explore and take her mind off what she was forced to await.
After hours in the sky of the beautifully tropical Greater Archipelagos, Tragor at last returned to the Isle of Dragons. Iviana took note of the way he flew in, perceiving he was attempting to conceal their arrival that Iviana might enjoy her privacy as long as possible.
Dropping her off on a secluded beach, she thanked him for the time they’d spent together as well as his thoughtfulness before he went on his way. Iviana sadly turned away, but cheered herself with the thought of food for her desperate stomach.
It was then she noticed for the first time an old run-down shack near the beach. She began in that direction and was near the door when a low, crackly voice spoke to her.
“Do you know what the trouble is with becoming so old, passer?” muttered the stranger.
Iviana stopped herself in time to see the speaker of this statement who was, indeed, quite old and sitting on the ground against the wall of the shack. Upon closer inspection, his eyes could not seem to find her and Iviana realized he was blind. Peering down at his tiny legs, she thought they might possibly be crippled and could not help wondering if Healers could handle such ailments of old age.
“What is your difficulty, sir?” she asked.
“Eh...” The man offered a deeply wrinkled half-grin. “The trouble is nobody listens to a word you say when you grow as old as I. Think your head is full of bats, they do.” He said this through a fine set of partially toothless gums.
Iviana drew closer. “What is it you wish to say? I will listen.”
“Yes, I see that...” He appeared pleased with this, but soon his half-grin fell. “Eh... what was it I wanted to say, now?”
Iviana looked to the rising sun as her stomach growled.
“Aah... yes,” the man said slowly. “Don’t suppose you know our grand, young Realm Leader, do you, dearie?”
“I do,” Iviana replied.
“Hear he’s a handsome boy.”
Iviana smiled. “So they say.”
“Eh, but a handsome face doesn’t mean a thing,” said the man, his voice deeper than before. “It’s what’s in your heart what matters... and I grant you that boy’s heart is as black as the rest of that fearful council, I do.”
Iviana’s smile faded. She was beginning to understand the bats theory. “No, sir, I know him personally. I assure you he is a man of honor and goodness.”
The man raised his head as if he could see her face and said quickly, “What’s that, you say? You know him personally? How so? You’re just an ordinary girl, aren’t you?”
“I was the one who brought him here in the first place,” Iviana answered a little proudly.
To her astonishment, the man spat at her feet. “S-seeker...” he sputtered. “You’re the Seeker?! I should have known the only person I’d get to listen to an old man was that fool Seeker,” he said the last to himself a little hopelessly. He began to cough harshly then, evidence of an illness.
Iviana’s compassion stirred and she knelt beside him, placing her hand on his back. “Sir, what ails you?”
“Go away from me! You’re one of them. You’ll have me locked away in the caves now, won’t you? You’ll have me shut away where no one―not even a fool Seeker―will hear me. This is a cursed land, girl, mark my words. We are a cursed people!” The man proceeded to wail and cough at once.
“Please, settle, sir. You’re making yourself worse. No one is going to hurt you.” Iviana touched her hand to his head and willed healing into the ailments of his body. The elderly man relaxed in response and fell into a deep, blessed sleep―a rest unlike he had had for some time, by the looks of him.
As Iviana sat cradling his head under her arm, she wondered why this man had not been healed previously; it had been too simple. She had not even used any curatives, yet as she searched his body with her gift, she knew the illness had fled at her touch. It had been a mere cold then, made worse by old age and neglect. Perhaps no one had known he was ill. It must be he lived alone in the tiny shack. She would have to ask if anyone could be made to come and take care of him. He was certainly too old to be on his own, so far from the dwellings of the villagers. If anything, she would come to him when she could. Nimua would know something about it. No piece of gossip got past her.
Iviana proceeded to slide the frail man onto a mat and drag him into the shack. So light was he, it was no time at all before she had him laid upon a shabby excuse for a bed. Before leaving him, she fluffed his pillow and covered him with a quilt, then prepared a meal with what odd bits she found in what might have been his kitchen. This she placed on the wooden crate beside his bed so he could enjoy it when he awoke. She would return to him when she could, but was uncertain when that would be. It depended on what she learned from Nimua.
–
“Oh, old Waymith?” asked Nimua when Iviana described him. “He’s still alive? I had no idea. I haven’t heard anything about him for so long. Some years ago, he had been a council member, but there was an argument and he was made to give up his position. I don’t know why he would be living in that old beach shack. He’s got a perfectly fine plot of land further in. Come to think of it, I think that place is boarded up.”
“What concerns me is that he was ill and may have been for some time. Does no one visit him? He is crippled, after all, as well as blind.”
“Is he? How terrible. He wasn’t before. It must have come on with age.”
“And neglect. Doesn’t the Greater Archipelagos take care of their elderly?”
“Well, yes, usually. But then, I suppose they usually have family to care for them and his only daughter disappeared years back.”
This caught Iviana’s interest. “Did she? Around the same time he was kicked off the council, I gather?”
“Mmm, I suppose it might have been near that time. I’m not sure. I was very young. I only remember it because of how furious my mother was about his removal.”
“Then why hasn’t your mother cared for him?”
“I really don’t know, Ivi. Like I said, I thought he was dead. Maybe she did, too.”
“Do you know where she is?”
“Visiting the Isle of Knowledge for a few days. A cousin of hers lives there, you know.”
This frustrated Iviana, but it did not hinder her plans. Soon after leaving Nimua, she dashed to her hut and threw her kitchen pantry into a basket before heading for Waymith’s shack. On the way, she gathered up an armful of richly fragrant flowers and brought them along, as well. If this man had been unattended as she suspected, he would need healing of the heart and spirit as well as of body.
It was nearly two hours after she had left him that she returned. Waymith was still sleeping peacefully in his bed, but she ventured to open the windows, allowing a fresh breeze to sweep out the dust and musty aroma of the place. The wood the shack wa
s made from was very dark and the room was small, making it all the more cramped and gloomy, so she lit every scattered candle and lamp she could find and threw open the door.
She proceeded to toss out the sad little meal she had formerly prepared and began work on a filling one to replace it. She did not know if such an elderly man could eat the large array of food, but she meant to have it prepared anyway.
Then, of course, there was always the chance he would not even awaken until the following day. If he had been ill, he may not have been sleeping well and would need all the rest he could get. Still, she wanted to be ready and the food would be just as good the following day in any case.
Once that was underway, she found the curtains were torn and oppressive, so she pulled them down and did what she could to wash and mend them. Sometime she would make new ones, but these would have to do for now. Before she knew it, she was forced to sit and rest a few moments. She went outside and fetched one of the old, wooden crates beside the shack and carried it in to sit idly for a while
“Eh, who’s there?” muttered the man. “If it’s that vermin Kurn―”
“It’s Ivi,” she answered. “We were speaking before you fell asleep, if you remember.”
Waymith sat up. “Ivi... We were talking? Oh, yes... oh, the Seeker.”
“That’s right, but I mean you no harm, I promise. I wish only to ask some questions.”
“Well, I won’t be answering them,” he replied severely before a great breeze blew through the small room and he caught scent of the wild island flowers and, more importantly, the food. “What’s that I smell?” he asked gently, almost pleadingly.
“That’s your dinner,” replied Iviana as she fetched the tray and laid it in his lap. When she found he could not locate the correct utensils, she took them up herself and began feeding him.
The old man did not stop to think that a strange young woman was spoon-feeding him like a small child. He only gratefully accepted the offering and did not stop to speak until he had had his fill, which was, surprisingly, nearly the whole tray’s worth.
As Iviana took the tray from his lap, he commented, “You’re a good girl, aren’t you?” It was not entirely a question, but there was a hint of speculation in his tone.
“I hope so,” Iviana replied. “Now, how are you feeling?”
“My stomach feels as if it may deny all it’s received. But I won’t allow it.”
Iviana held a cup of cool water to his lips, hoping it would help settle his stomach.
“Aah,” the old man murmured happily as he lay back against the wall. “Haven’t had fresh water for days.”
“Oh!” exclaimed Iviana, reaching for the pitcher and filling his glass again.
“No, no, I couldn’t take any more just now, but you set that on the box next to the bed and I’ll get to it later. Now, what was it you wished to ask.”
“Well, I... I wanted to know why you’re living out here all alone in this shack when you have a perfectly nice house near everyone else.”
The old man seemed to peer at her a while, though he could not see, before answering. “That I cannot tell you.”
Iviana was disappointed. She had so wanted to know that she might better help him.
“Got any other questions?”
Iviana nodded, then remembered he would not be able to see it. “Why were you removed from the council? And where is your daughter? Why is no one taking care of you?”
The old man’s face was stern when she asked the first question, then softened and grew melancholy by the two that followed. He sighed, saying, “I cannot answer those either,” as a tear dropped onto his cheek.
“But why not? I only want to help. I can’t if I do not know more of your circumstances.”
Waymith smiled. “You can’t help beyond what you’ve done already. You ought not to have done even that.”
Iviana shook her head. “I don’t understand.”
“I’m sure you don’t and that’s best. I suppose if you did, you wouldn’t be here. Now, I’m tired, so you’ll have to leave.”
Iviana was again disappointed, especially at his change in tone. The softness had vanished, replaced with bitterness.
“Go now, please,” he said impatiently. Iviana had gathered up her basket and moved toward the door when he added desperately, “Will you come back again some time?”
Iviana grinned. “Of course, I will. I’ll see you tomorrow.” Upon exiting, she returned to ask, “Do you like reading?”
“Sure, I like it enough, but I can’t see a lick.”
“I’ll bring something to read to you, then.”
–
Iviana visited him the following day as well as every day for weeks, often multiple times a day. Each time she tried her questions, he denied her. Eventually, she stopped asking, for she could not bear the look that came over his face. Especially when she asked about his daughter. There was certainly deep heartache there.
It was days before she noticed the scars on his arms and legs when she attempted to wash him. He avoided questions over these as well. It seemed he would tell her nothing and so she must be content to know nothing and help him as best she could. Eventually, it became less about helping and more about the friendship that had developed between the two. Waymith was like the grandfather―even father―she’d never had, even if he was gruff and bitter at times.
When her friends began to notice her continued disappearance, she refused to offer even a hint of her whereabouts, considering it her duty to him. If he did not wish her to know anything of his circumstances, she doubted he would want her to share anything of their friendship.
What puzzled her was that when he refused to answer her questions, she got the impression he did so for her sake rather than his own. It was as if it was for her safety and he was determined to protect her. Often, he told her she should cease her visits, but always he asked if she would come again until he no longer needed to.
Sometimes, she would spend whole days with him, reading from her most precious book and telling him about her life. When she shared about her lonely childhood, he showed great compassion and understood her feelings, as he had clearly been disregarded and alone in his elderly state for who knew how long. How he had managed to remain fed, she did not know.
Once, when she came to see him, she heard voices within and knew she must not enter, must not even eavesdrop, though she dearly wished to. So, she hid herself and waited until she saw one of the council leaving the shack. When she entered, Waymith was paler than he had been for some time and was reeling with anger.
Iviana quickly knelt beside his bed and took his hands in hers. “Oh, what is the matter, my dear friend?” she cried.
The old man swatted her hands away and she withdrew to make up a plate of food for him.
“You can’t come here anymore...” he said, “and I mean it this time.”
“It doesn’t matter. I’m not going to abandon you.”
Waymith pounded on the wall with his fist and demanded she promise not to return. “They’re noticing the food and the state of my health. They want to know who’s doing it.”
Iviana dropped what she was doing and sat beside him on the bed. “The council? Why should they care that someone is taking care of you? Why don’t they want me here?”
The old man’s face grew far paler and he began to cough. “I shouldn’t have told you that―I shouldn’t have.”
Iviana poured a glass of water and held it to his lips, but he would not accept it, nor would he settle.
“Go!” he commanded. “Now, or I’ll hack myself to death!”
Iviana didn’t know what to do, but recognized he was in no state to be quarreled with. “Fine, I’ll go. I love you, dear friend.” With that, she left him, but waited outside to be certain his coughing had ceased. Once satisfied, she headed for the Grand Pavilion to join the others for the evening banquet, something she had not attended for some time as she had been spending her suppers with Waymith.
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Though Iviana was worried, she went calmly, knowing full well she did not intend to stay away forever. She knew he expected she would, that that was what her leaving this evening had meant to him, but she could not. She would return the following day, as she had done every day, and she would demand he tell her everything. He could not be expected to protect himself, crippled, blind and elderly as he was.
When she arrived at the banquet, her band of friends exclaimed how they had been missing her and were glad to have her with them again. Iviana tried to cheer for their sake, but was preoccupied with her own thoughts.
Brenna seemed distracted, as well, however, and Iviana could not help wondering about her. “What is troubling you?” she asked quietly.
Brenna looked around to be certain none of the others were paying attention. “I’m… worried about something.”
“Do you wish to talk about it?”
Brenna thought a moment. “I do, but I don’t know what you’ll think of me.”
Iviana was filled with compassion at the sound of her voice. It appeared Brenna had been keeping something inside for a while, but Iviana had been too distracted to notice. “Oh, please, share. I won’t think poorly of you, I’m sure.”
Brenna offered a half-smile, but appeared doubtful. “Well, you may, in any case, but I must speak with someone.” She hesitated before, “You see, it... it has to do with Flynn.”
“It’s all right. Go on.”
Tears pricked at the corners of Brenna’s eyes, but then Nimua demanded their attention and charged into a grand story, so the two were forced to wait until they had another moment to speak. As it was, they found none, so Iviana offered to walk home with Brenna at the close of the meal.
“It’s just that I’m worried about him,” she said as they started. “He’s been acting so strangely.”
“How so?”
“Well... he hardly has time for me anymore. I realize he has so much on his shoulders, but even when we are together, he doesn’t really talk.”
Seeker's Revolution Page 4