After cleaning himself, and changing out of his work clothes, he went to his father’s room. Aviti was still there, her eyes bloodshot and pained, but her tears had ceased.
‘Is it time?’ she asked. He nodded in reply. She rose with all the grace that her mother had given her. She walked to him and put her arms around him. This was not the embrace of sorrow, but of solace. He held her until he felt her push him away, then she turned and left the room.
Cairn walked over to look at his father, but the small man lying on the bed no longer resembled him. The expressionless face that gazed back at him through lifeless, unfocused eyes could have belonged to anyone.
‘Father,’ he said to the silence of the room. ‘It has finally come to this. Many, many things I wish I had said to you; and a few words I wished I had never uttered.’
He looked for any sign of the fire that had burned so strongly in N’tini while he had been alive. His father lay impassive on the stained bed. The air in the room made it hard to breathe.
‘If I can be half the man you were to this family,’ he continued, ‘my life shall not have been wasted.’
Once he had finished his private eulogy, he reached over and closed N’tini’s eyes. Lifting the corners of the stained sheet, he wrapped the body up tightly. Gently, he lifted his father in his arms and made his way outside.
--*--
It was deep into the night when Cairn lit the pyre. His preparations had been thorough so, within moments, the mound was fully ablaze and soon the heat from the large bonfire pushed back the night’s chill air. He stood with his sister, close enough to the flames to feel their heat. Wist sat further back at the edge of the field, staring at the ground. Aviti buried her face into Cairn’s chest, her shoulders heaving convulsively with her cries as the sounds of her mourning were consumed by the roaring fire. The blaze illuminated the night, shining like a beacon out into the frigid desert.
Cairn shed no tears for his father that night; he had to be the rock to which Aviti could cling - the foundation of her new life. As he stood gazing numbly into the fire, he thought of his father as he had been in life. Proud and singular, he had not been an easy man to live with, but everything that his father had done had been for his family. When his mother had died, a little of N’tini’s spark had gone with her. His father had done his best to conceal this from his children, but his loss was too great to hide.
A smile passed across his lips when he thought of how his father would bait him over his beliefs. His father would have enjoyed the way he had stumbled through the ritual prayers tonight. The Words should have brought comfort to him, but they had delivered nothing. Asking for “Wist’s Mercy” while he looked over his father’s body had caused him to choke. The irony of having a stranger who claimed to be Wist at his father’s Passing was not lost on him. Yes, N’tini would have laughed at him this evening, but he knew that his father would have done it only to force him to think, to see the world as others do. How often had he been given the lesson of perspective? Consider every angle his father would say to him. At present, all he could see was flames and smoke.
‘Go back into the house, Aviti,’ he said. ‘I shall watch over the pyre until morning. Father has Passed now; there is nothing you can do. Take him with you,’ he gestured to Wist.
Aviti nodded and looked up at her brother. ‘I shall leave something for you to eat inside.’
She lifted herself on to her tiptoes, kissed Cairn on the cheek, and then walked over to Wist. She motioned to him to follow her into the house, and without a word spoken between them, they left Cairn alone.
Cairn lifted a large stick from his side and proceeded to circle the fire. Using the pole to push at the pyre, where wood had become dislodged, he stoked the fire to ensure that the blaze maintained its heat. He had heard tales of poorly tended pyres leaving blackened and charred corpses. He knew these were the second-hand stories from taverns, whispered alongside tales of the Damned, but he could not bear the thought of his father’s Passing being incomplete.
There would be no sleep for him tonight even if he had not been N’tini’s oldest son. His only son he corrected himself.
As he passed around the pyre, back to the spot where he had started, two figures stood at the edge of the light; equal in height and build, the two men stood at ease, with their arms relaxed at their sides, hands empty and open. He quickly took them in.
Lyrats, he breathed to himself. He had never been on the receiving end of a Lyrat raid, but he had heard tales that spoke of farms burned and pillaged. His thoughts flickered to his sister, but he forced himself to concentrate on what he could control, and not what was beyond him. This too was his father’s teaching.
Finding that he still held the length of wood, Cairn shifted his feet to adopt a defensive fighting stance. He had a few weapons back at the house that he would equip himself with before patrolling the borders of the farm, but those were far out of reach. He had spent many hours as a youngster sparring with his father, learning how to use all manner of weapons, and knew how to use his strength to his advantage with a staff. His father’s lessons had not been limited to the control of his thoughts.
‘Leave this place; it is not yours for the taking. Leave now and I shall not pursue you. I have my father’s funeral pyre to tend this evening.’
The two men took a step forward, their strides synchronised; feet leaving and touching the ground together.
‘We are not here to -,’ began the figure on his left. Cairn didn’t wait to hear what he had to say. He had to seize the initiative before the Lyrats did.
Cairn fell into a roll, swiftly closing the distance between himself and his opponents. As he rose, he thrust all of this strength through the staff, aiming at the man who had spoken. He knew that he would only stand a chance if he could remove one of these intruders before they had a chance to separate.
The Lyrat calmly watched the staff hurtle towards his face. He watched and waited, until he knew that Cairn could not alter its course. Then he simply dipped a shoulder, turned his face and watched the charred end of the pole sail past his eyes.
Cairn felt a sharp pain in his ankle and landed flat on his back, as his standing leg was kicked out from under him by the second man. Two hard, flat stumps were pushed into either side of his throat, each man holding a slender staff to his neck. One held it in his left hand, the other his right.
‘We have not come to steal,’ said the Lyrat who had spoken initially. ‘If we wished to kill you, you would already be dead.’ Cairn could see the katanas sheathed on their belts. He did not doubt the truth in this man’s words.
‘Into the house. We have little time.’ Both men returned their staves to holders on their backs with a fluidity of motion that surprised Cairn. He felt a hand under each arm and he was lifted back to his feet. Then he was pushed along to the house, flanked by the noiseless Lyrats.
As they moved inside, they found Aviti sitting at the table. Startled, she began to scream, but Cairn silenced her with a motion.
‘Fetch Wist,’ said one of the Lyrat. ‘Fetch him now.’ Surprise registered on Aviti’s face. Cairn should have known that bringing that man back here would be trouble.
‘Aviti, go and fetch him,’ said Cairn.
As she ran to find him, he addressed the Lyrats. ‘Take him and go. Leave us in peace.’ Neither of the Lyrats answered his request.
Cairn looked over the Lyrats. The loose-fitting robes they wore sat easily on them. Matching the pale hues of the desert, they were well equipped for life among its vast dunes. He thought that if these men covered their faces, he would have no way of telling them apart. Their faces, however, were quite dissimilar - one was handsome, while the other had far sharper features; a nose slightly too long for his face and ears that sat asymmetrically above a strong, tight jaw line. Also, he had a small scar above his left eye which gave the appearance that the eye was partially shut.
‘What is it?’ said Wist, as Aviti shoved him into the room.
<
br /> Wist looked blankly from Cairn to the two tribesmen that stood at either side of the rear door.
‘Here he is,’ growled Cairn. ‘What now? This is my house and I will know what this is about.’
The Lyrats exchanged glances. ‘We have no time to give an account of our actions,’ said one of them. ‘We can tell you only what you need to know. If you wish to live, then come with us. You must leave here now. Take only the essentials for light and fast travel.’ Cairn recognised the voice as the man who had spoken outside.
‘Lift a weapon, if you can handle one,’ he added.
‘We are going nowhere. This is our home!’ said Cairn, including Aviti in his pronouncement. ‘Let him speak for himself.’ Cairn extended a finger to point at Wist.
Wist opened his mouth to reply, but Aviti cut him off. ‘Hold on Cairn,’ she said. She turned to the Lyrats, ‘What is this peril you speak of? Do you expect us to leave behind our farm, our home, our entire life on the word of two intruders?’ Her shock at their appearance had obviously worn off, now she bristled with anger and pent-up frustration.
‘Where would we go? Out into the desert, in the cold dead of night?’
‘The tribes are coming, girl,’ said the handsome Lyrat. ‘They have been called as never before. They are being used as a tool: driven to destroy. They are corrupted and ruined. We have at most a full day before they strike. Understand that this is no small gathering of tribes. This is all of them. They were gathered on the far side of the Black Corb.’
The Lyrat tribes? Here? Cairn felt a tremor pass through him. If two of them had overpowered him this easily, what in all of the city could stand against them?
‘Last night they moved,’ continued the Lyrat.
‘They come to find Wist. But they will not stop at him. They will slaughter everyone. You have no hope of stopping such a force. The city shall be destroyed.’
Aviti stood stunned. Cairn sat on the stool beside him and ran his large hands over his face, until they rested in front of his lips. He thought over his options. He had been running this farm for years now and had grown accustomed to making important decisions. Could he make this one?
‘What do you mean they come for me?’ gasped Wist. ‘How can they know I am here? Why do they want me? What the hell has any of this to do with me?’ Hysteria rose in Wist’s voice.
The Lyrat raised an eyebrow as he looked at Cairn. He had passed responsibility for the choice to him. What would his father have done? This was his choice to make and his alone; he knew there was only one path that made sense.
Aviti began to speak but, before she could, Cairn commanded them to fall silent. He had so little time to make such an important choice. He turned to look at Aviti, the last remaining part of his family. He had made his decision: one that Cairn hoped would have made his father proud.
‘You must go, Aviti.’
‘No!’ she gasped. ‘I will not.’
‘Aviti, please listen for a moment. If what they say is true, then you must leave. I will not lose you. I have no reason to trust what they say, but use the brain that Father gave you. Why would they lie? They could have killed me easily outside. If they are wrong, wait a day or two wherever they can find refuge for you, then return.’
‘But what if they are right, Cairn? Am I to be left alone? You must come also,’ pleaded Aviti.
‘Aviti, this is the only life I have ever known. The only one I have ever wished for and without it, I am nothing. I will stay and - if it should come to it - I shall fight. It may be that I shall join mother and father many years sooner than I ever thought, but I shall exact a price for the land that our parents claimed back from the desert with their blood and sweat.’
Tears welled in Aviti’s eyes yet again that day. ‘No Cairn, please, no.’
‘Yes, Aviti. It must be so. You know that father would agree with me. You have always been the dreamer. Perhaps it is time to discover where your dreams will take you?’ The unexpected tenderness in Cairn’s words cut at Aviti.
‘Go and pack what you need. Do it now, Aviti. Please. Do it for Father, if not for me.’
Aviti acquiesced and dropped her head as the first fresh tear rolled over her cheek. She stood and turned, then walked back to her room. When she had left, Cairn walked over to Wist. ‘Protect her. Protect her, as I would have, as my father did before me. She will find her own path, I am sure of it. But do what you can to keep her safe.’
‘I ….’ began Wist. ‘I will. I owe her my life.’ He looked as if he wanted to say more, but lacked the courage to continue.
Cairn held Wist in his gaze for a moment. ‘I only hope you never have the chance to repay the debt you owe her.’
‘If they are wrong,’ Cairn gestured to the Lyrats, ‘then you can return her to me. Do this and there shall always be a place for you here.’
Searching for an escape from this predicament, Cairn turned to the Lyrats. ‘Tell me this,’ he asked, ‘why are you not with your people baying for our blood?’
‘We are now exiles,’ said the first Lyrat coldly. ‘The tribes have been poisoned from within and have been whipped to a fever by the Fahars, but the words that they speak are not their own. The others hear what they wish to; we hear only lies.’
‘You are sure of this - all of the tribes?’ Cairn asked. ‘It cannot be.’
The Lyrat’s face betrayed no emotion as he nodded. His silent counterpart remained motionless.
At a cry from the South, one of the Lyrats vanished through the door. The remaining Lyrat shifted his stance from one of relaxed balance to sharp readiness. Nothing else gave any indication of his thoughts.
‘Has it started already? I thought we would have the next day?’ Cairn fought to keep the tension from his voice.
‘If you are to stay, then make your preparations while you have time,’ stated the Lyrat.
Cairn was glad of the excuse to be busy. His life had spiralled out of his control so quickly. He went to find his sister and left Wist with the Lyrat.
Aviti and Cairn gathered their father’s weapons and lay them atop his vacant bed. Cairn unwrapped the bundle that contained a sword and an axe, and spread them out. He had never thought he would need to put them to use. Plain weapons, they had been created to be used, not displayed. They were well-balanced and unadorned. Unused for many years, except for the practice sessions they had enjoyed. Cairn found that the edges of the weapons were dull when he ran his fingers over them.
‘Our father’s blade and axe. He never told me why he had them or if he had ever used them,’ said Cairn as he released the axe to hold his sister’s hand. ‘I used to beg him to tell me when I was a boy. I always imagined him fighting Krowen and the great desert snakes. I guess I will never know now.’
‘Aviti,’ he said, ‘I cannot conjure words the way our father would have. I can only tell you that I love you. But no more tears today, Aviti. Be strong for me,’ He gathered Aviti in his massive arms and held her there. ‘Take mother’s necklace. She wanted you to have it when you were of age.’
She moved away from him and lifted the thin golden chain from the stool beside the bed, where it had laid untouched for many years. A small, eight-pointed star dangled at the bottom of the necklace.
Cairn took it from her and let it fall into his open palm. Then he placed it in Aviti’s hand and folded her fingers around it. He glanced back at the weapons lying on the bed, and then to his sister’s face. Then he lifted the staff that lay beside the edged weapons. Lean and slender, it looked incongruous in his hands. ‘I could never understand why our father had this staff; surely, it must have been too small for him.’ Aviti looked dumbly at him. ‘I suspect it may have been Mother’s.’ He passed the staff to Aviti and tenderly closed her fingers around the warm wood, then he placed a finger on Aviti’s lips to forestall her questions.
‘Come on,’ he said, and he led her out of their parent’s bedroom.
As they reached the kitchen, the Lyrat returned through the door. ‘Th
e noises from the South herald a different threat. I fear that the city moves against us.’
‘What do you mean the city?’ asked Cairn.
‘Word of Wist’s presence is throughout the city. We listened to a few conversations before we came here. Most of them speak of a heretic.’
‘We have a mob arriving and behind them the Lyrats,’ breathed Cairn. Wist trembled at this revelation; Aviti blanched at the news.
‘Leave now. Go, take them and go.’
Cairn clutched his sister for the last time and then he released her and seized the shoulder of the nearest Lyrat. ‘I -’ he struggled to find the words.
‘Thank you,’ he said as he released his grip. The noise from outside was clearly audible. Angry shouts could be heard.
Aviti looked into his eyes.
‘Go,’ he said.
The Lyrats shepherded Wist through the door. Aviti took one last look at Cairn and then she followed them out.
4 - Leaving Hope
Conti had been a busy man. Since the ‘visitation’, as Kerk had called it, he had made several plans and set a few of them in motion. Gathering information had been his first priority. It had not been long before he received a story about a pale-skinned man being found at the gates on the day of the storm. Seemingly having lost his mind, this deranged man thought he was Wist. This had pleased him.
He had not disregarded the intruder’s warning to beware, but he was still unsure why he had come. The name Tilden was a fake, but why use that name? A man dead for centuries, and one that few would dare utter. Still, he had re-read everything that the substantial inner library held on Tilden. It was a fascinating patchwork tale, and not for public consumption. He had even read the standard text on Tilden, contained in ‘The Teachings of Wist’. It could be no coincidence that the intruder had chosen the name Tilden. For all his probing, Conti could not find out why. And that message about the Twins had been truly puzzling. He had failed to unearth anything that related to any twins.
The Redemption of Wist Boxed Set: Books 1 - 3: The complete collection Page 4