The Tessellation Saga. Book Two. 'The One'

by D. J. Ridgway

  Sonal wrapped his arms around himself and stared at the ground thinking of the smoky pictures he had witnessed the previous evening, finally he turned to Varan and began to speak. He told Varan of the previous night’s revelations, of Gideon’s birth in the aftermath of the storm and his adoption by Jed. He spoke of his own thoughts, how his own powers somehow always seemed enhanced if he used them whilst Gideon was present. He told Varan of the many occasions that the boy had surprised him; he spoke on as the chill evening began to chase away any warmth from the sun and the shadows began to cluster and grow.

  ‘He learns fast too!’ Sonal said, telling of Gideon boring delicate holes in gemstones and not suspecting he was doing it himself, ‘I just guided his concentration,’ he added.

  ‘Does the boy get sick like this often?’ Varan asked quietly.

  ‘His father says he has never been ill and certainly for as long as I’ve known him he’s not had so much as a cold, until three days ago that is.’ Sonal answered, wondering where the conversation was heading. ‘He felt heady and ill when we left Green Home and I tried to do a healing but something felt wrong with the roots,’ he said and stared at his brother to ensure his understanding. Sonal continued, adding he had also tried a sleep spell that did seem to have some effect as they neared the cottage, Varan simply nodded, ‘but then he recovered immediately once we got to his grandparents’ home.’ Sonal started, as he remembered his conclusions about Gideon’s strange illness whilst still on the journey to Branton.

  ‘Varan,’ he said an excited look in his eye, ‘I felt something as we arrived here, here in Branton, it was the… I wonder…’ he whispered, as his jumbled thoughts suddenly found cohesion. ‘Hear me out for a moment,’ Sonal begged, ‘like I told you, after I ran away, I travelled, I was quite famous,’ he smiled sadly remembering where his ambition had left his twin. ‘Anyway, I received a summons to perform for the king and was on my way to Devilly but it was raining so I stopped at an old burnt out cottage for the night. I felt …at peace, at home…, as if something wanted me to stay…it spoke to me in my dreams… I think… I think it’s the forest,’ he added speculatively. Varan looked at his brother in surprise.

  ‘That can’t be it, it wouldn’t answer why he is not ill at his grandparents’ home, the forest is three days away you say,’ replied Varan shaking his head, his brow drawn tight in confusion.

  ‘Yes, yes it would,’ Sonal argued as he stood up and began to pace as he talked, using his fingers to emphasise the points he was making.

  ‘Gideon, Jed’s father built the cottage here himself, he was the woodsman for Green Home nearly all his life, he was born there and he loves the forest. The wooden parts of his cottage here are almost entirely made from Green Home wood, and what isn’t wood, is stone, again brought from around Green Home,’ Sonal looked at his twin to again to gauge his understanding before continuing. ‘Even the furniture is all made from Green Home wood too, don’t you see Varan? It has to be the forest that has protected Gideon. The forest that has set bounds on his magic, the forest...’ he said again and turning again to face his brother, he grinned wildly. Varan stared at Sonal wanting to see truth behind his brother’s reasoning and slowly his face lit with Joy.

  ‘Let’s go back Sonal, I would like to speak with young Gideon myself,’ he said, standing before his brother as simultaneously they again clasped forearms.

  Night was drawing on fast as the two finally released and turned; walking back on the track Sonal had taken with Mayan early that morning.

  Chapter 13

  Several Stitches

  Dotty and Mrs Green ventured downstairs once more and entered the parlour where they found Rhoàld, snoring quite loudly and tucked up on the large sofa Gideon had used the night before, Mrs Green pulled at the door leaving it ajar.

  ‘Best thing for him I think.’ Dotty agreed and followed her new friend back into the kitchen to break up the argument that seemed to be about to wake the sleeping patients.

  ‘No sir,’ Jayson was saying, ‘it needs stitches sir,’ Jed’s mother looked at the two men arguing across the room. Her son, the man she had known and loved all his life, the man she would die to protect and the younger, now ex-soldier, Jayson. She knew he would stay with them when her son and his party moved on after the visit and the thought warmed her. Somehow, he had instantly become part of their family’s future and he was a welcome addition to it, warm, kind and caring. We always did want another child, she thought smiling, though we should ‘ave liked ‘im when we were younger an’ e’ were smaller. She stared at the two men amused to see they were arguing just like brothers.

  ‘What needs stitches Jayson dear?’ Mrs Green asked innocently, placing her hand on his arm. She looked at her son standing quietly beside the door blood pooling at his feet. Jed’s face was a picture; he was suspicious of the young soldier even though he had helped his parents when they had needed it most. Why’s me ma touchin’ ‘im like that? Jed thought jealously and as his mother looked at him, the colour ran up his neck and suffused his face.

  ‘Mam,’ answered Jayson, ‘your son Jed, he has a wound…,’ he began and was quickly interrupted.

  ‘Jayson…’ began Jed in a threatening tone.

  ‘Jed has a wound that requires someone other than me to look at it. I think it needs several stitches, mam.’ Jayson said again returning Jed’s scowl.

  ‘It’s nowt ma.’ Jed began, as he attempted to cross the room to the doorway, his scowl deepening.

  ‘Show me the wound dear,’ said his mother as she moved to the sink to wash her hands.

  ‘Ma, really its nowt…’ Jed began again as his father walked into the room.

  ‘Jedadiah Green yer will allow yer mother ter inspect the wound afore the ‘ole ‘ouse ‘old is awake,’ his father said sternly with a twinkle in his eye.

  ‘An’ I’ll be the judge o’ nowt!’ Added his mother as Jed, cussing silently under his breath began to undo his trousers, he looked pointedly at Dotty wishing either he or she, were somewhere else. His mother noticing the look smiled.

  ‘I’m a little tired Dotty, would yer assist me please,’ she asked, as Dotty, remembering the bouncing bottom and the feel of Jed’s thigh pressed up against hers, smiled warmly in turn.

  Jed glowered in horror.

  ‘Ma, it be on me arr… me rear!’ He said, correcting his language in front of his parents’ and desperately trying to avoid Dotty’s eyes.

  ‘Well, I’m sure Dotty ‘as seen a bottom afore this,’ Jed’s mother smiled, noticing his colour and her new friend’s reaction to it.

  ‘Not mine she ain’t.’ Jed grumbled to himself as he bent over the kitchen table his trousers now about his knees. He continued to grumble under his breath as Jed’s mother winked at her new young friend.

  ‘I think it’s a very nice specimen, as bottoms go that is,’ Dotty said, as she held her hand over the wound. Jed’s face suffused with colour once more, he cringed as he felt the heat and the itching from the magic and he fervently wished the ground would open up and swallow him.

  ‘Perhaps we should have used needle and thread.’ Dotty added as she tried to stop herself from laughing aloud at her patient’s obvious discomfort.

  ‘Why’s that dear?’ Jed’s mother asked slightly confused, after all the magic she had witnessed a cut bottom she thought should have been easy.

  ‘It would have hurt more...,’ replied Dotty, smiling as she finished the healing.

  Just then, the back door opened and the twins Varan and Sonal entered the house. Jed pulled himself hurriedly from the kitchen table and covering his now healed bottom stood staring at his best friend with thunder in his eyes.

  ‘Don’t even ask…’ he growled as the twins burst into friendly laughter at the scene before them. ‘It’s no the least bit funny.’ Jed added huffily, throwing a furious glance at Dotty as he stalked out of the room avoiding eye contact with anyone else and a chorus of laughter followed him.

  ***

 
That evening, Gideon re-emerged from his enforced sleep fit and well with no sign of the illness that had laid him so low. He crept into Mayan’s room and kissed her brow thinking how small and vulnerable she looked lying so still in the large bed and leaving her quietly he went downstairs to the parlour; he had a few questions to ask both his father and Sonal. Hushed voices immediately stopped as he walked into the room.

  The previous night Gideon had used this room for sleeping in, then, it had seemed huge but full of bodies as it was now it seemed to have shrunk, the whole household bar Mayan were gathered, either sitting or standing around and although greeted with smiles and welcoming looks, Gideon could feel the tension in the air.

  ‘Ah, there you are me boy...’ his father smiled warmly and offered him a cup of tea patting a vacant stool beside himself. Again, Gideon looked around the room at the faces of people he knew. Two Sonal’s! He thought, clearly not remembering seeing them both the previous day, ‘n’ oo by the journey is that. His eyes widened seeing a strange young man standing protectively beside his grandmother and in some of his own clothes. The young man caught the stare and smiled tentatively. His grandmother seeing the smile, introduced Jayson and explained his presence and the need for the borrowed clothing, she squeezed the young man’s arm in affection and spoke warmly, so Gideon smiled awkwardly in return.

  ‘Gideon, this is Varan, my brother...’ Sonal began quietly, adding ‘my twin brother, remember?’ Gideon nodded slowly, vaguely remembering Sonal’s tale of the Bleak and trying to recall if he had actually seen the man before he had passed out the day before. He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose between his finger and thumb. It’s ser quiet! He thought, suddenly realising the tension he could feel was because of him. He cleared his throat and raised his head, he had thought long and hard, as he lay awake on the bed his father had used in the room above this one. Voices and mumblings had risen up between the floorboards just the same way his father’s soft voice had done the previous night, drawing him upstairs to learn about his real mother and his unconventional birth. Lying awake, he realised the conversation was about him again, this time though about what had happened out in the woods and he wondered if Sonal would have any answers for him. He was worried, he had seen and felt the magic leave his body, a pearly iridescent wave of death, he had seen the birds fall from the trees and the soldiers drop dead. The tension that had made him so sick had eased at the exact moment of the magic’s release, only to begin building once more immediately after. It had something to do with the fact that he had been almost constantly ill since leaving home of that, he was sure.

  ‘Folk’s, I… I... err… well, I would like ter know what’s ‘appenin’ ter me?’ He asked in a small voice, no one moved or attempted to speak so he looked pointedly at his father and his friend and asked again. ‘What is it Da, Sonal, what’s goin’ on?’

  Varan looked at the boy’s puzzled face, he was almost sure the message he had passed on to Rhoàld in a vision was for him but he was confused. He had carried the message in his heart for so long in the hope of finding the one, the warrior that would save them all. Where is the powerful warrior we had hoped for, the all-powerful sage, surely this cannot be him, he thought. How can I pass this boy, this boy not long out of childhood the message, would he understand it, would he even be able to interpret its meaning? He mused silently and in his confusion, he said nothing as the tiny silver haired girl flashed her fingers at her sister and Gideon, noticing the strange movements stared openly.

  ‘Lemba would like me to translate what she says,’ began Dotty speaking mainly to Gideon. Gideon nodded and sat down, slowly sipping the tea his father had given him and he looked at the girl whilst her sister spoke, all the while staring at her fingers in fascination as they moved, faster here and slower there, like a dancer practicing a particularly difficult routine.

  Once more, Lemba’s fingers told the story of Toby and the magic she had witnessed, she told of his mission from the king to find Gideon himself and her own subsequent need to find Jed. Her fingers slowed as she reached Rhoàld’s part of the tale and she glanced at him, her fingers faltering.

  ‘Go on my dear,’ Rhoàld said, nodding his head sadly, so her fingers flashed again, faster and faster as she spoke of Gideon’s true parentage and then his brother’s illness. Finally, she spoke of Jed’s decision to leave the army to help Gideon and save his family and his abandonment of their group only that morning.

  ‘Well…,’ Gideon almost giggled when her fingers stilled. He watched them as they wrung with worry and wondered if they were saying anything else. He looked at Dotty feeling as if he were drunk, his head felt light and his emotions were overwhelmed, when she said nothing he put the cup and the remainder of the cold tea down on the table.

  ‘‘Ang on, let me get this right,’ he said, taking a moment to gather his thoughts. ‘Not only have I got some bad disease that seems ter kill folk iffen I get a headache but I’m the King’s son an’ his grandson… and me ma, who, ...let’s not forget, was dead when me Da birthed me, says he be out ter get me,’ he added, remembering the story that had played out in the smoke. ‘Oh, an’ would yer believe it I don’t even ‘ave a coin ter check fer this likeness mesel’,’ he added as he stood and patted himself down pulling the insides out of his trouser pockets. ‘All that and then, then… there’s what ‘appened ter me poor Mayan...’ Gideon slumped heavily back onto the stool beside his father.

  Jed, having learned the tale before Gideon was out of bed had prepared for the boy’s reaction and placed his arm around his son. ‘Gid lad,’ he said, ‘first Dotty and yer gran ‘think May will be ok, that’s right ain’t it Dot?’ Jed said looking toward the woman for confirmation. Dotty smiled her agreement, feeling warmed by the diminutive use of her name.

  ‘She’ll be fine Gideon, she’ll need love and care but she’ll be fine.’ Dotty replied, marvelling at the depth of emotion she could see in Jed’s eyes. He likes me! She thought.

  ‘Next boy, next, yer my son, mine, an’ ‘e’ ain’t gonna get yer back, king or no,’ Jed finished forcefully and tightened his arm pulling the boy toward him and hating the look of pain and confusion on his son’s face.

  ‘Please… Please, you don’t seem to understand, none of you do!’ Rhoàld exclaimed aloud, his face full of sympathy and concern, he continued as all the faces suddenly looked at him for answers. ‘King Gath does not want Gideon as a son; he wants… he wants Gideon’s blood..., as he wanted mine.’ Rhoàld pulled up his sleeves to show the many scars where Gath had drawn his blood and not cared enough to heal the wounds properly. As they stared, he loosed his sleeves and pulled down the collar of his shirt revealing the last horrendous scar Gath had given him, the one that had almost killed him; a dark red angry line that ran straight across an artery in his neck. As the questions flooded toward him, Rhoàld seemed to shrink before them.

  ‘Be calm my friend,’ smiled Jayson placing a hand on Rhoàlds knee and as if Rhoàld was a nervous animal Jayson’s own magic went to work calming the anxious man. Varan glanced at Sonal, both of whom were sitting silently and watching.

  ‘Mayhap we can help,’ Sonal said and standing behind Rhoàld the brothers linked arms and as their forearms locked, they began to sing.

  The twins could achieve balance without touching each other but as they clasped arms their power seemed to expand and grow, becoming light and radiant, an almost physical aura surrounding them.

  Gideon, his father and to a certain extent Gideon’s grandparents were used to Sonal’s half-hearted mumbling under his breath and the magic that inevitably followed but this was something else, something quite astounding, they listened in awe to the majesty of the music the brothers produced in perfectly balanced harmony.

  The song filled the room casting peace and truth about them all with its sweet and subtle tones. Varan touched Rhoàld’s forehead and Rhoàld smiled dreamily at the peace filling his body, he could feel Bastian singing along with the song from deep in
side his mind and he felt comforted.

  Lifting his hand, Sonal pointed toward one of the whitewashed walls of the cottage and Rhoàld seemed to glow, a sparkling aura of pure energy linked the three men and broke away, flying from Sonal’s fingers toward the wall. Where it hit, it dispersed breaking into tiny fragments. The lights changed every few seconds just as the smoke had the previous night only now there was so much more detail. Rhoàld clenched at the arms of his chair, frightened again now as he saw himself on the wall. ‘Relax love,’ Bastian whispered deep in his head and began soothing and calming the terrified man. Dispassionately now, Rhoàld watched the scene play out before him. It was as if he and the others were watching scenes from his life, each one both uncomfortable and unpleasant and each one diminishing who he was in some way. The jumbled memories tumbled out of his head one after the other.

  In the first, he was once again in the dungeons of Devilly castle, he saw himself scream and rush forward, his hand reaching out for the knife blade as it began its downward journey, slicing through the skin and tissue of his hand as well as it finding its intended mark. Inside his head, Bastian sobbed as the blade penetrated his naked body’s back and pierced his heart. Silent tears ran down Rhoàld’s face as again, he saw Bastian rear backward looking in pain and surprise at his king before lovingly looking toward Rhoàld, his sorrow evident in his expression.

  The song changed and Gath stood before him, again with a knife in his hand, he saw himself sitting almost naked on his bed in his rooms, an old man reluctantly offering his lifeblood to the king. He watched as his image closed his eyes and pushed himself hard onto the sharp blade, again the blade sliced through skin and tissue and finding an artery, a ribbon of deep dark blood began to pump swiftly into the cup. Still Gath mumbled in a singsong voice as he reached down and cupped his hands catching the fresh blood pouring from the deep wound.