Dorian raced down the stairs two steps at a time, then ran until he found himself in the midst of the confusion.
A large group of Company warriors was crowded in front of the sleeping quarters. He could hear the curses of a furious argument beyond the human wall. He immediately recognized the voices and a cold shiver ran down his spine. He pushed his way through, but halted just beyond the last row of people, looking at a scene he would never have wanted to witness: two men were holding Raduan – who was armed, enraged and shouting – back by force, and were preventing him from throwing himself at Kyra, who in turn was brandishing a long knife, and hissing like a wild cat.
“Damn!” Raduan yelled “What did you think you were doing? Let me free, I want to teach her a lesson! Let me free, I said!”
“Yes, let him!” she replied, no less angry “Let me deal with him!”
Without wasting a second, Dorian swept behind her. He clasped her in a powerful grip and knocked the knife out of her hand. Kyra kicked and punched, but Dorian didn’t let go. Raduan trembled with rage before them.
“Someone explain to me what is going on!” thundered the exasperated Dorian.
Raduan stepped forward, his finger pointed at Kyra:
“Commander, this cursed thief was trying to slip away under our nose!”
“Watch your mouth, you idiot!” she snapped “It’s a lie!”
“Of course!” he said “Is this why you were fleeing in secret? And I bet that fell in your bag by mistake!”
Dorian followed Raduan’s gesture with his eyes, and gasped in surprise: from the inside of the bag, leaning against a door jamb, could be seen the unmistakable silhouette of the Wayfarer’s Banner: it had been ripped from its pole and rolled up like a common piece of cloth.
He pushed Kyra aside, and retrieved the precious artifact. He unrolled it and shook it, making sure of its state. He heaved a sigh of relief: it was still in perfect condition! The image of the traveling staff, embroidered with golden and silver threads, gleamed against the white background of the fabric.
Dorian raised the banner in front of him, and gave Kyra a look as heavy as a boulder. The men around moved away, sensing an oncoming storm.
“You of course have a good explanation for all this...” he hissed, holding back his anger “I really hope you do...”
Kyra looked away, without replying. She moved a lock of brown hair from her forehead with a hand. Dorian grabbed her by the arm with enough energy to crush a stone. “Answer me, dammit! Did you really think you could steal it? And then what? What about the Ritual? It would have been the end!”
She looked at her feet, silent.
“Say something, damn you, defend yourself, tell me I am wrong!” insisted Dorian, full of anger.
Kyra bit her lip, and fixed her good eye on his. Then she spat out the words with anger:
“There is no misunderstanding! I am tired of you, of them, of the Company, the way you carry out your mission and never stop to think! You are blind, and you don’t even realize it. This is not the life I want for myself!”
Dorian opened his mouth, but before he could speak she continued her stream of vitriol:
“I wanted to go, yes, and I planned to take with me the only thing worth a few coins, considering how miserable we...”
She could not finish the sentence, because Raduan was suddenly in front of her, no longer restrained, and slapped her hard in the face, hurling her to the ground.
She was back on her feet in an instant, mad with rage.
“What do you think you are doing, you idiot? You will die for this!”
But before she could react, another hand hit her on the lip, knocking her to the ground again. She lifted herself with difficulty, full of anger and frustration.
“Who was that?” she shouted, “Who dared...”
She met the stern eyes of Dorian, his hand still raised above her.
She remained motionless for a while, staring into the emptiness. Silence fell all around her. Then she got up slowly, shaking the dust from her body. When she raised her head, her usual supercilious smile had resurfaced.
“That’s it, then” she said.
She looked at her comrades in arms, one by one, finally focusing on Dorian. Her voice, like her look, was cold, devoid of emotion.
“There is nothing more to say between us. There is nothing left.” She turned her back on him. “I am leaving, and nobody can prevent me.”
Dorian, caught off guard, tried to block her:
“Wait, daughter!” he said, grabbing her elbow.
Kyra shook his hand off.
“You are not my father” she said “You never were.”
She forced a path between the soldiers, and walked away. No one tried to stop her. She disappeared behind the tower, never looking back.
------
Later that same day, Dorian was practicing his swordsmanship.
He had been unable to swallow even a morsel at lunch, and now he was trying to release the tension with a good bout of exercise. He assaulted imaginary enemies with his blade, now striking, now parrying, now unleashing deadly blows. The movements flowed naturally through his body, expressing a concentration of strength and agility, the result of years of constant struggle.
The sun of early spring, moving beyond its zenith, burned pale in the sky, but could not warm the earth with its rays. Ignoring his fatigue, Dorian continued training. Though the sweat was running down him in rivulets, and he was starting to feel the pain, he knew he did not want to stop. The strenuous exercise was a blessed escape from his present worries.
And to drive away the painful image of Kyra leaving...
Even while concentrating on his fencing, he could not help but think of her and her haughty smile. Only now that he feared he had lost her, did he fully understand the affection he felt for her. It was as if part of him had vanished, leaving him crippled. Despite all the quarrels and misunderstandings, he had never stopped loving her, as a father loves his daughter.
“Yet she is not my daughter” he thought “Not in the true sense of the word. But I did my best...”
How long had they known each other?
For years.
Ever since that day...
------
“We have walked far enough” said Abel.
Dorian looked around. It was a pitiful village. Only a few filthy-looking dwellings. He read the same question in the eyes of his companions: “What are we doing here?” He wiped the sweat from his forehead using the already drenched sleeve of his shirt. The summer was coming to an end, on the calendar at least, but Edessa, the Goddess of Nature, did not seem to have realised.
“Let’s find a place to rest” said Abel.
The heat was oppressive. And the hospitality was not what they had come to expect. They were confronted by the harsh expressions of farmers used to fighting hardship, used to deprivation and a life that took from them more than it gave. From door to door they went, asking for fresh water and a shady place in which to rest, but they were met only with hostile stares, and insults and threats. Dorian was taken aback. It was the first time the White Wayfarer had not been accepted or respected by the common people.
After several unsuccessful attempts, finally even Abel was convinced that it was a wasted effort, and he led them beyond the village. They came to a rough stone bridge over a stream. The memory of what they saw on that bridge would always bring a smile to Dorian’s face.
Two children, dirty and poorly dressed, were circling a girl much younger than themselves, and only half their size. The two kicked and shouted, trying to scare her, but she stood impassively in the middle of the bridge staring ahead with a resolve that seemed out of place in one so small.
“Daughter of no one!” jeered one of the bullies, opening his mouth in a toothless smile “Run away to your mother, run!”
“She can’t!” retorted the other, with false compassion “Her mother is buried in the ground, just like the rest of her famil
y!”
With a crow of delight, the bully stood in front of the girl. He looked her up and down, waiting for a reaction. She looked at him calmly and pretended to sniff the air, then declared in a voice serious beyond her years:
“What a stench! You should take a bath.”
After a moment of stunned amazement, the boy rushed at her. He was certain to overpower her with his weight in his desire to avenge the insult. With astonishing agility, the girl moved aside and tripped him over. The bully was propelled forwards and fell yelling into the muddy waters of the river where he landed headfirst with his legs up in the air. The other bully, his face livid, tried to punch the girl, but she easily avoided it and slipped behind him with a single fluid motion. Before he could turn around, she hit him at the base of his neck with a hand cut, ripping a cry of pain from him, and with a kick to his rear she sent him into the water along with his companion.
The two were soon back on their feet, up to their knees in the muddy river-bed, their mouths overflowing with insults. But as soon as she took a step towards them, they paled. They ran to the other side of the river, casting terrified glances over their shoulders, as if they had a monster on their heels. The girl stood looking at them motionless, her lips stretched in a grin of satisfaction. While he found it a little disturbing, Dorian was also quite impressed.
At this point – he remembered it as if it had been yesterday, Abel had pointed at her with a radiant smile:
“She is one of us.”
They realized that from then on the curious little girl was to become part of the Company, as unlikely as it may have seemed. But it was always Abel’s call, and he had not shown any hesitation whatsoever.
Dorian, inexplicably drawn to the small figure watching them from the bridge, came forward. The little girl stared at him with interest, without showing the concern he had expected. With the tip of a finger, she touched the scabbard of the sword he wore hanging at his side. Dorian immediately sensed a subtle link between them. He asked her name.
“Kyra” she said, her voice firm.
What happened next was blurred in his memory. He still remembered, however, the small Kyra, ragged and unkempt, guiding them back to the village, not at all uncomfortable in the midst of that bizarre group of armed men dressed in white, all unknown to her.
They discovered that her parents had passed away a few months earlier, victims of a disease. That made her an orphan, but the coldness with which she faced up to the situation made it clear that her relationship with her parents had never been strong. It was a sad reality in the underdeveloped regions of the Kingdom that female children were often deemed as servants, and spent their early years hard at work, without ever receiving a single loving word or caress. Kyra explained to them almost mechanically that after her parents’ death she had been entrusted to a distant relative.
They were soon to meet this person. She was looking out the front door of her house like a bulldog: a severe, imposing woman, who already had four children of her own to feed. When Abel asked permission to take the girl away with him, offering a just compensation, her piggy eyes were unable to conceal her interest. Then Abel put the same question to Kyra. She looked at him with eyes full of wonder. Many times in the future she would laughingly recall that episode with Dorian. It was the first time she had seen a man so... bright! Like the angels from myths...
And it was the first time anyone had asked her opinion on anything.
She agreed without hesitation.
Only after she crossed the threshold of her poor house for the last time, did she stop, uncertain. Dorian approached her, took her hand, and smiled warmly. She stared at him with big sad eyes, then smiled in return, comforted, and squeezed his hand.
Then they had walked together behind the White Wayfarer towards the future.
------
Since that day, Kyra had always been by their side, through thick and thin, growing up to become a strong, beautiful woman. They had trained and protected her to the best of their ability, and she had soon become more skilled than most of them. Dorian had been closer to her than anyone else, assuming the role of a father. In all his best memories of recent years, Kyra was always beside him, smiling and confident in the future, in love with her cause, as was he, as were all of them...
Then, her accident. After that, Abel’s disappearance.
And now, the break-up.
Dorian realized he had stopped practising, overwhelmed by memories. His sword hung at his side, inert. His chest rose and fell rhythmically in its search for oxygen. He heard footsteps, and saw that Raduan was approaching sheepishly. When he realized he had been seen, his friend gave him a nod, and his lips parted in an uncertain smile.
“Don’t work out too hard, Commander” he jested “I wouldn’t like to have to carry you back to our quarters!”
Dorian smiled back.
“There is no danger to me. You, on the contrary, could do with a work out. You look out of shape.”
Raduan laughed, but Dorian sensed his discomfort in the way he avoided looking in his eyes.
“Dorian” he said, after a moment’s hesitation “I came to apologize for this morning. I know what you are suffering, and that it is because of me.” He scratched his head, looking at his toes. “I am sincerely sorry. Perhaps if I had been less impulsive, none of this would have happened. I acted like a fool, and I ended up causing a mess!”
“Don’t talk like that” said Dorian “For me, you did nothing wrong. It was clear to us all. It was on the cards that eventually Kyra would come up with something stupid like that.” He shook his head. “She has always been stubborn, but today she crossed the line. Your anger was more than justified, as was mine.”
He watched the sun’s reflection on the blade of his sword for a while, before going on in an unsteady voice:
“Anyway, I think that we will see her again sooner than you think. We are the only family she has. When she cools off, she will return, and we will be ready to take her back, without unnecessary rancor.”
He was not at all convinced, but it was the kind of lie that made him feel better.
“I hope you are right. Yes, you must be” assented Raduan. His expression, however, showed little conviction. He waved a hand before his face, as if to chase away a fly. “What shall we do from today?” he asked. And then, with a sad smile: “I have the impression that we are no longer welcome here. The looks they give us on the street are not very reassuring. What kind of gratitude is that?”
“Some things will never change” said Dorian, shaking his head, “But this time they will have to be patient and grant us some more of their hospitality. Not everyone will remain here, though: you and I leave tomorrow morning.”
Raduan raised an eyebrow.
“Why only us? And to where are we headed?”
“In search of answers, my friend. And this time I want to tap into the richest resource of the Kingdom.”
“Hmm! Zontar, am I right?”
“You read my mind as always. Since Iarmin said those things last night, I have had much to think about.” He wiped the sweat from his forehead. “You know as well as I do that those words could lead us to Abel. We need someone to help us interpret them.”
Raduan agreed:
“Instinct tells me that you are right. And I have learned to trust my instinct blindly.”
“It is decided then” Dorian concluded; “Tomorrow we ride to the Gray Tower!”
“Zontar...” Raduan said the name with great respect “I never thought that one day I would make the acquaintance of the famous Sage! If he really knows something about Abel, or the Valley of the Moon, he will be willing to help us won’t he?”
“Provided that we can get to him in time. I heard that he has been appointed First Adviser to prince Feledan. The prince needed someone to show him the right path.”
“That is good news indeed. But I worry what awaits us on the road ahead. You saw what happened to Iarmin. We will have to watch our backs
.”
“Without doubt, Raduan. That’s why I have chosen you as a traveling companion, and I already have a few other names in mind. I do not want to take any unnecessary risks, but we need to move quickly: the tower of Zontar is just two weeks from here for a small group on horseback. The rest of the Company will wait for us here at Bezer, in safety.”
“Well thought out” said Raduan, animated by the prospect of continuing their journey “Let us hope this is the right choice. We cannot keep wasting our time on false leads.”
“I am sure we are on to something this time. Good fortune must smile on us soon!”
He grabbed the hilt of his sword with both hands, and moved to a defensive stance, his eyes lit with determination.
“Now go, soldier! Do not distract me with your chatter, I am trying to train!”
“Yes, sir!” laughed Raduan, standing to attention “I will make myself busy assembling the equipment, sir!”
He turned on his heel and walked away with long strides.
Dorian, regaining his focus, tried to dispel the worries and doubts from his mind. He focused his attention on the tip of his sword. With a war-cry, he attacked. Perhaps the time was coming. Perhaps he would finally find answers to the questions that had been gnawing at his mind.
“Your sacrifice was not in vain” he thought, the image of Iarmin burning in his mind “We will find Abel, I swear, and we will bring him home with us!”
V - Sea Stories
City of the Automatons Page 4