Agate- Then and Now

by M. D. Grimm

  “Well.” She pulled the blanket back over him. “He’s still in pain, but it has much diminished. A couple more sessions should suffice to heal him completely. But he’ll be stiff for weeks after.” She stroked his hair as he lay silent. I nodded at her words. She stood, walked toward me and set a gentle hand on my shoulder.

  “Talk to him,” she whispered. “He should know.”

  I didn’t have to ask what she meant. “I don’t know about that.”

  “It’s your choice, but think what is best for him. Right now, at this moment.” Then she left. The tent flap rustled behind her and then it was silent. I could vaguely hear movement outside but in our little world, it was just him and me, in brooding silence. I swallowed before approaching him. His muscles tensed as he sensed me near.

  My love. “I thank the Mother you’ll be all right.” I knelt by his cot.

  “Thank you.” His voice was stiff.

  More silence.

  “I’m so sorry, Aishe. This is all my fault.”

  That had his head turning, his eyes widening on my face. “What? No, it’s—”

  “I failed you,” I insisted. “I didn’t protect you like I should have.”

  He shook his head vigorously. “No, Morgorth. This is my fault.” His eyes filled, but no tears fell. “This is my fault. I’m an idiot, and now I’m paying the price.”

  I sighed. Perhaps the guilt lay on both of us. I gently laid my hand on his head, stroking his hair. He closed his eyes at my touch, his hands gripping the blanket.

  “Why did you?” I asked softly. “Why did you do something so reckless? You knew the plan. You knew I had to be the one to take her down.”

  “I don’t know.” His voice was tight, pained. Ashamed. “I just wanted to show you that I could be useful. I could be...could be”—his breath quickened, his face reddened—“worthy of you.”

  I bowed my head and shook it. He covered his face with his hand. A moment passed, then another. Then I leaned forward, laying one arm across his shoulders, wrapping the other around his head. I rested my cheek against his soft hair, and felt him tremble at the contact.

  “I just want you safe, Aishe,” I whispered, my eyes shut. So many emotions bubbled inside me I didn’t know which one to give attention to. “That’s all I want. That’s all I’ve ever wanted. You’re not ready for battle, Aishe. You know that, so don’t rush yourself.” I sighed. “My heart stopped in my chest when I watched you charge her. I nearly died when she hurt you.” My voice stayed soft, but since my mouth was close to his ear, I knew he heard all of it. “Your safety, above everything else, is my priority. You’re not making it easy.”

  “Why?” His voice trembled. “Why am I so important to you? I’m just a nobody. A nuisance nobody.”

  I pulled back, but not very far. Our faces were close and I watched him gather courage before reaching out with a hesitant hand. His fingertips touched my cheek. I hadn’t shaved in a few days and the stubble must have scratched him. He didn’t seem to mind. When I did nothing, said nothing, he grew bolder and soon his hand cupped my cheek. I heard him gulp.

  “Why you?” I said quietly. “Because one day, in your future, you will become my mate.”

  I’ve never seen him look so shocked. His entire body froze and his hand on my face grew stiff. Then he started blinking, his mouth opening and closing like a fish. I struggled not to chuckle. I hadn’t planned to tell him, especially not now, but it seemed right. It seemed like the thing to do. After thinking so long about it, about this past, about my own present time, the things my Aishe told me, the things I’d overheard... He knew about our future together. Why else would he be so persistent, so secretive about my role in his past? Because I told him to be. I told him to be silent about it, and I would only have told him that if I also told him his role in my life. Added to all that, I respected him, and that meant I had to tell him.

  “Huh?” Aishe finally said. “What? I don’t—what? How?”

  I snorted. Then I cleared my throat. “You need to rest. I’ll explain things later.”

  His face tightened, his hand slid from my cheek to my collar and held on. “No, you don’t. You explain what you’re talking about right now! Mate? I’ll be your mate? In my future?”

  I laid a hand on his head. “You need to rest.” With a whisper of magick I eased his mind and sent him into a gentle sleep. His eyes fluttered closed and his fingers fell from my collar. I tucked his hand under the blanket before pushing his hair away from his face. Cheating? Most definitely. But he wasn’t ready to know more, and I wasn’t ready to explain. He was still healing. I didn’t want to completely stress him out.

  “I love you,” I said, knowing no one could hear me, not even the recipient of my declaration. I just stood there for a long moment, gazing down at him. Then I turned and left.

  Chapter Eleven

  Aishe’s injury distracted me. I was sure that was Drasyln’s intention. I grew more on edge as the day passed. Where was she? Sure, she would be healing herself using non-magickal means, but I had to wonder if that was the real reason she seemed to be taking her time.

  I sat on the ground, not far from Aishe’s tent, observing the activity around me. I wasn’t the only one on edge. The warriors cleaned their weapons, looking anxious for a fight. The children looked afraid, and traveled in groups. The females prepared food, but they spoke in hushed tones, their faces strained.

  Footsteps suddenly approached me from behind and I stiffened. The wind brought her scent to me but I didn’t relax. Amyla slowly lowered herself beside me, wearing a tunic and trousers, her hair pulled back in a tail. She fidgeted before gathering her courage.

  “Morgorth, I would like to apologize for my earlier words. I had no right to say them. I know you would’ve protected my brother if you could have. It’s just—” She swallowed hard, her breath hitching. “It’s just seeing him like that...I got so scared. He’s my best friend. I don’t want to lose him.”

  I said nothing. But I reached over and laid a gentle hand on her shoulder, squeezing slightly. She exhaled slowly, and touched the back of my hand with hers. Then she surprised me by resting her head briefly on my shoulder. I had no time to react before she stood and left. I watched her go. Wyn approached her and he pulled her into a fierce hug, his young face set, hard. Our gazes met and I saw the fire in his own. Memories flashed to my own brothers, and I had to look away.

  Aishe had a good family. His blood kin and his tribe would protect him with their lives. The tribe was close-knit, loyal, trustworthy. So different from my own blood relations, ones who had tortured, starved, beaten, and humiliated me from the moment I was born. My gut burned as phantom sensations wracked my body. As I grew older my father had started to encourage my brothers to take part in his “training” of me. My three older brothers started to choose my punishments, when I should be punished, and the duration. My father even placed the whip in my eldest brother’s hand, instructing him how to flay my skin open.

  My jaw clenched as my vision turned red. My brothers had started to simply slap or punch me when they felt like it. My father would laugh and pat their backs, so proud. My mother, a scared little mouse, ignored it all, looking away, treating my wounds after all was done. My hatred for her was no less than my hatred for my father.

  I leapt to my feet and walked away, my magick burning, my wrath bubbling. I would never know what Aishe did about family, what it felt like to grow up loved, cherished, protected, and wanted; what it felt like to have a father proud of me, to have a mother watch over me; to love and play with my brothers, to know they had my back. I would never know any of that. But Aishe did. And then it had all been taken away. Or will be taken away. Damn time travel!

  I kept walking, out of the camp, past my crystals, the sentinels, down a little-used forest trail. My strides were long, purposeful, as I removed myself from innocent bystanders before I erupted. Why did I allow myself to think about those monsters? Why did I still give them that power? Why didn’t
I just do something about it, and go and kill them?

  I knew why. I never wanted to go back. I became physically ill with the mere thought of going back to my birthplace; to sail across the ocean to the western continent, to travel through the Zentha kingdom, to that meager farm; to see those faces again, to see the lives they led now. To see him again.

  My father. My tormentor. My demon.

  Head bowed, I panted, swallowed, and tried to keep from vomiting. Reaching out, I stumbled against a tree, laying my head against the bark, feeling it scrape across my skin. Outside I was chilled, but inside my magick was still hot, reacting to my emotions, struggling to do something, to act. I absently unbuttoned part of my jacket, feeling confined, exposing a small portion of my pale, scarred chest.

  I wanted to destroy something, and that was bad. I held in the desire, the impulse to blast something to pieces. That was the first step, wasn’t it? The first step to following the path toward my destiny—it started with little things, little impulses, indulgences. If I allowed myself too many of those, I would become lost—I would forget where the line was. I would become exactly what my father had wanted me to become. Exactly what I’d once been before Aishe, before Geheimnis.

  I forced myself to think of my Aishe: his smile, his laugh, his touch, his kiss; the way he caressed my skin, the way he made love to me; the sight of him as he would rise above me, and take me into his body, riding me. Even the way he hugged me, his strong arms reassuring, protective, and trusting. I had his trust, his loyalty, and his love. I had his heart just as he had mine.

  I was supposed to be here, in this time, at this place. With him. With his tribe. I could only speculate why the Mother wanted our lives so intertwined; why she wanted us to influence and support the other. There was a reason the Mother wanted us together, wanted us linked so irrevocably, but what was it? What could her purpose possibly be? The Mother had a reason for everything she did, or so I’d been taught. And I knew it wasn’t because she liked playing with us as if we were puppets. I’d felt her love first hand. As a child she’d come to me—kissed me, and touched me—her love a physical force enveloping me like a warm blanket. I’d seen the majesty within her soft eyes. But that only made me more confused. Why would she allow my birth as the third seventh son of a seventh son? Why would she allow a Destroyer of her world, her creations, to flourish? And why would she give me a mate who I would die for?

  I sighed heavily, leaning away from the tree. I would drive myself to madness if I kept up this line of thought. Stepping back on the trail, I stretched and flexed my muscles, my magick calming from my change of focus. I had to trust her. She created everything in this world; she created life itself. She’d given Aishe a loving tribe for a reason, just as she’d taken it away for a reason. She’d allowed my abuse to take place for a reason as well, but I didn’t think I would ever find out what it was. I didn’t know if I wanted to.

  Turning around, I began to head back to camp. It was hard to believe this was only my third day with the Ravena tribe. How could it be possible that in such a short amount of time I had become attached to these creatures? Perhaps it was because I’d seen them through Aishe’s eyes before I gained faces to names. I’d known his brothers and his sister before ever meeting them—their humor, their fierce loyalty, and their teasing ways. I’d known his parents, their devotion to their children and their tribe. I learned about their motivations, their sorrows. Wyn had been married before he died. Fray and Amyla had been seriously courting two other dialen. Their lives had flourished, and they’d had so much to offer the world.

  I stopped walking just outside the camp and raised my face to the sky, took in its soft blue beauty. Then I turned in a circle, taking in the serene atmosphere of the forest. I stared back the way I’d come, narrowing my eyes.

  “Why?” I whispered. “Why do all this, Mother? Why take so much light from the world? What was more important than what these dialen had to offer this sick, twisted world?” The wind rose gently, lifting my jacket, flapping it slightly behind me. I continued to stare at my surroundings, eerily thinking she heard me. She’d come to me once after all, uninvited. What if I called her now?

  “Mother.” I lifted my voice a little more. The wind died. “What are your plans for me?” Nothing. Not that I really expected it. But I couldn’t stop the wrenching disappointment from tugging at me. “You took so much from Aishe, and you don’t even have the guts to justify yourself.”

  I turned sharply on my heel, took one step, and then was shoved over by a violent gust of wind. My hands broke my fall, and I hunched my shoulders, struggling to look behind me. The wind still roared over me, and I had a moment to wonder if I’d really pissed her off. Then, down the trail I just traveled, far in the distance, stood a figure: a very dark, indistinct figure. I narrowed my eyes, trying to see clearly. The wind blew forest debris into my face, making it difficult, but I could suddenly, clearly, make out a few details: the figure was tall and broad, and he had antlers growing out the sides of his head.

  My mouth fell open.

  The Hunter. Who else could it be? The Mother’s companion, the one supposedly created from her own blood. Her equal. Forests were his domain, and he either blessed or cursed a hunt, which was why I’d seen many dialen hunters pray to him before they hunted. His friends were the forest creatures, but they were also his prey. I heard he liked to interact and guide seehirts, elemental spirits that often repaired forests after some destruction took place. Not every forest had seehirts; Vorgoroth didn’t, but there were those who claimed to see such a horned figure guiding their movements. The Hunter rarely interacted with his children, the way the Mother did. He favored the dumber children, the instinctual animals such as deer and wolves, while the Mother favored the intelligent ones, such as mages, payshthas, and seelas. The Hunter was an observer, an instinctual entity—the opposite and complement of the Mother.

  And there he stood, a short distance down the trail, staring at me. I knew he was staring at me. I also knew I wasn’t hallucinating. Then a large, muscle-weighted arm lifted and pointed toward the tribe. The message was clear, as if he’d spoken to me. Go back to them. Then the wind died and he was gone. Sweating profusely, my heart drumming in my chest, I surged to my feet and burst back into camp. Breath uneven, mind reeling, I had to bend over and grip my knees. Even as I tried to calm myself, I felt it. I felt her.

  I snapped straight, scanning. It was strange, what I was feeling. It was faint, so subtle I could have easily missed it. It was more of a gut feeling than anything magickal. I spun around in place. Where was she? She had to be very near, perhaps even inside the camp. But how was that possible? My crystals should have detected her. I vaguely realized that I began to attract attention. Activity began to stop, and dialen began to freeze, conversations fading away.

  Then I felt her again, closer. My eyes moved toward the direction of my target. A young female dialen strode across the field, a slight limp in her gait. She was the same that bumped into me. My eyes narrowed, and I sent out my magick. As it touched her, I felt Drasyln’s magick. I watched her even as, out of the corner of my eye, I saw Amyla standing not far from me with Lucia.

  “Amyla.”

  She came to me, her eyes curious, wary.

  “Who is that dialen?” I asked, my voice hushed, strained.

  “She’s the scout I was talking about earlier.” She shrugged. “She came to us injured. She’s scouting land for her own tribe.”

  “When, exactly, did she enter the camp?”

  “Well”—I could tell by the way she dragged out the word, she knew something was wrong—“I think she came not long after Aishe left with our mother and a few others, to find you where he’d left you.”

  “The day I came to your tribe, so did she?”

  “Yes.”

  My magick flared hot. Pieces fell into place. Drasyln lived for disguises, ambushes, she didn’t like direct confrontations. She could’ve followed Aishe after he left me, running back t
o his tribe for help. After he left, she then could have disguised herself as a dialen, pretended to be a scout. And the agate gave her the ability to pop in and out of camp with time travel, thereby missing my crystals. She must have seen me putting them around the borders of the camp. I suddenly remembered Amyla saying the “scout” had been injured in the leg. But Drasyln got that injury when she tried to ambush us the night she wounded Aishe. It would seem she was becoming more adept at using Atcoatlu. Or, perhaps, the stone was becoming more adept at using her. She must have traveled back in time after she’d been injured. Harming Aishe also had the added effect of shattering my focus.

  As I watched her, she suddenly entered Aishe’s tent.

  “Stay!” I ordered Amyla before sprinting toward the tent, wrath and terror burning in my throat.

  Even as I reached the tent and gripped the flap, I heard Aishe’s voice loud and clear. “You’re not a dialen! You’re Drasyln. Morgorth!”

  His gift. Of course. He might not be able to actually see through her disguise, but he would sense her lies, her true self. I yanked aside the front flap to see her leaning over a wide-eyed Aishe, her hand burning with white-hot flames, her skin glowing.

  Aishe’s eyes snapped to me. “Morgorth! She’s—”

  With a bellowed word, I slammed pure force into Drasyln, taking her by surprise. She barely had time to turn around before the force punched her through the air, slamming her into the inside walls of the tent, and wrenching the stakes out of the ground. Screaming, she flew a far distance, tangled in the fabric, crashing into trees as she did.

  Aishe had covered his head as soon as I lifted my hand. Thankfully, my fear, power, and experience allowed for a perfect, controlled shot. The force never came close to Aishe; it had punched right into Drasyln’s chest.

  Aishe was in my arms and I held him close, then I turned around, taking a deep breath. “To arms!”

  Highly trained and organized, the dialen mobilized in an instant, their weapons ready. Their elders and many females took the children into the forest, hiding them. The warriors ran past us toward Drasyln, who struggled out of the tent where it had wrapped around her.