Chapter Five

Dear Wren,
The time has come again for me to be on my way. I’ve lingered long enough on these shores, and I fear I may become too attached.

Arnan set down the pen and tried to rub away the pain of his throbbing temples. He felt as if all the forces in the universe were intent on crushing him. The headaches had appeared not long after he had first set foot on the shores of Clio, but it had been a long time since one had so completely overtaken his mind. It was nearing morning, and Arnan was still struggling over what was necessary to inform his sister of. Each draft of the letter was steeped in sarcasm and grief, and he was not about to let his younger sister take a mind to read between the lines.

Arnan stared silently at the two children sleeping in the corner of Little Mother’s cottage as he worked up the courage to finish the letter. Each child was bound to him for their existence, and each had in some way placed their trust in him. He was thankful that Pepper was finally sleeping soundly. The boy had woken screaming nearly every hour, since he first fell into his comatose state. It was unlikely that Pepper would have any voice for the next few days. Arnan winced as another wracking pain took his head. He would have almost preferred Pepper’s nightmares to the continual throbbing.

Tomorrow I leave with my ward for the Island of An Toan. It seems ironic that my travels would lead me there, an irony that perhaps you will appreciate. An Toan suffers from the same deeply religious ailment that our parents had when we were young. Your wayward brother may for once try his hand at honest labor, as the inhabitants aren’t likely to need my current skills. Who knows, maybe Deus will show himself powerful in providing for my pour and wretched soul.

The sarcasm was beginning to show itself once again. He had to warn Wren of where he would be, and yet he couldn’t seem to do it without harkening back to the flame of hatred for Wren’s religion that had sparked in his heart. She might think it was strange that he was referring to Pepper as “his ward” but Arnan had already determined that he would not tell her about Meridel. It was likely that the girl would abandon them, and he was not ready to face the questions that would arise at the thought of a young woman traveling along.

Do not worry for me; we are going to a safe place. Give my regards to the others.

He bit back the word, family. They weren’t exactly a family anymore. They were no longer a family because of what he done, or not done. He had disgraced them, destroyed them. Yet, he loved them. Arnan sighed and pushed the piece of parchment away. The words were enough, and he couldn’t stand to think about his siblings any longer. Wren would be satisfied, although worried. He could now block memories of Braedoch out of his mind for another few months before he was faced with another piece of parchment covered with his own bitter words. Arnan slowly folded his letter and gathered up the stack of notes from Wren. The pile kept growing, and only a few of them had been opened. Each piece of parchment contained the concerns of his sister. He had quickly learned that they were too painful to read. It was far easier to simply push any thought of his family away and focus on the job at hand. Every so often he worked up the courage to read one of the letters, and whenever he did Arnan found himself launched into a deadly serious of headaches and nightmares. He knew he was worrying her, but he couldn’t bare the raw pain the letters evoked in his heart.

“What is it that weighs on your brow so heavily, little warrior?” Arnan smiled in spite of himself at the sound of Little Mother’s words. He had never seen himself as a warrior. He fought against the establishment, against rules, against his past, against himself. Aiden and Daelia had referred to him as rebellious, never a warrior. Arnan watched her weathered hands move across the familiar surface of her roughly hewn rocking chair. The firelight flickering across Little Mother’s face seemed to soften the wrinkles of old age, sitting there she almost reminded him of his mother, Lydia. Arnan swallowed hard and tried to think of a response that would satisfy the loving old woman.

“Perhaps it worries me that I have left so many things undone.” The statement drew a chuckle from the fireplace and Arnan once again found he was smiling. “In all honesty I don’t know why I offered protection to the girl. Hiding a Princess from prying eyes is less then simple work.” Especially when she hates you. Another chuckle came from Little Mother.

“You know well enough why you are protecting her, and you know that her royalty will not be the greatest challenge you will face.”

“My life will be in greater danger then it has ever been before, I am aware of that.” He knew that was not what she meant, but he could not force himself to speak the words.

“Arnan.” Her tone was commanding, even disapproving. He ducked his head at the scold in a long forgotten habit. “She has lost her heart, all she knows is grief and rage.” The old woman paused and looked at Arnan with her unseeing eyes. “You must be a father to her, learn to love her as her father loved her.”

“I don’t know how.” His words were a barely audible whisper.

“Deus will show you.” Deus. Arnan bit back the flow of bitter words that echoed through his mind at the sound of the name. He couldn’t see how a being that seemed to be bent on destruction could teach him to be a father. Arnan scraped his chair along the wooden floor and angrily walked over to the window. He didn’t know why he was staring out into the inky blackness, but somehow it reminded him of his heart. He didn’t know how to help Meridel; he didn’t even know how to help Pepper. Every time he tried he seemed to fail. It had been the same with his younger siblings. He had done more damage then good. Arnan knew what he had taught them was inconsistency. He had told them to obey, and then done the very thing they had been forbidden from. Arnan hung his head at the weight of failure that he felt. He was afraid, afraid because he knew that he would simply fail Meridel and Pepper the way that he had failed his family.

Arnan started out of his thoughts as an aged hand began caressing his cheek. He had been so lost in his confusion that he had not even heard Little Mother rise from her chair. She was smiling, and there were tears glistening in her eyes. Arnan covered her small hand with his own and smiled down at her.

“Do not be afraid my little warrior, you will teach her to laugh again.” Little Mother paused and Arnan could sense that she was looking at something with her sightless eyes. A small grin worked its way across her face as she watched a scene unfold in her mind. “You will teach her to laugh again. But I think… I think there will be another Princess who will teach you to cry.”

It was an unsettling statement, and the last thing that Arnan wanted to deal with was more royalty. His curiosity was building, but he could see from the look on Little Mother’s face that she would tell him no more.

“ You leave for An Toan?” Arnan nodded in response, knowing that her question was one she already knew the answer to. She smiled again and brought her hand down to trace the small pendant that hung around his neck. “ It is this greater weight hanging over you for which I worry.”

Arnan bit back tears at her words. The pendant was a gift from his sisters. Wren had convinced Daelia to craft it for his sixteenth birthday. All of the girls had chipped into gathering the necessary silver, and Daelia had painstakingly etched each of their names into the rim of the circle. Wren. Ilara. Aquila. Zoe. Daelia. He knew the shape of their names by heart.

“In An Toan, you will find the answers your heart seeks.” With those final words Little Mother stepped away and disappeared into the shadows, leaving Arnan to watch the Sun’s slow ascent into the morning sky.

_____

Arnan looked over his shoulder back at the little cottage one last time and caught a glimpse of a familiar falcon sitting on the roof beam. Shea had nearly impeccable timing. Little Mother would know what to do.

_____

They had been riding for nearly ten hours and the shadows of the trees were just starting to lengthen. Arnan could see that Meridel was beginning to fade. He silently berated himself for not stopping to take a noon meal. Pepper was still nearly comatose, and he had forgotten that the Princess would be less resilient then he was. Arnan’s thoughts turned back to Pepper as the boy’s head began to bounce against his back. Pepper’s eyes were open, but he responded to nothing and had not said a word all day. Little Mother had warned him that he might have to coax the little boy to speak again. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Meridel urge her jet-black mare forward until she was riding abreast with him.

“Why An Toan?” Her question was subdued and tentative, and Arnan hated the sound of it. She was afraid of him.

“The boy has family there.” He knew his gruff answer did not help, but he had little else to say. Arnan wasn’t even certain if Pepper really had family left there, he only knew what small bits Little Mother had told him about Pepper’s parents moving from An Toan to serve the people of Clio. “And the people of those shores will not let your Prime Minister search within their borders. They look on their land as a safe haven for any who seek help from Deus.”

“And we seek help from him?” Arnan ignored the question and lapsed into silence as they rode. Meridel was not satisfied with his answer. He could see her annoyance manifesting itself in her posture. She hid behind formality, a fact that did not surprise him in the least. She suddenly relaxed and Arnan wondered for a moment what was going through the young girl’s mind.

“Is he going to be alright?” Meridel cocked her head towards Pepper as she spoke.

“I don’t know.”

Chapter Four

A rush of adrenaline flowed through Arnan’s veins; his mind quickly assessing the situation with deadly precision. It only took a few testing movements of his neck to realize that the weapon was no small trinket, and whoever held it was pressing the blade point slowly into his neck with calm and determined rage. Arnan wasn’t sure how long he could wait to make a move without risking his own demise. A tree creaked, and a shadow tilted. It was all that he needed. Arnan turned just enough to swipe his attackers feet off the floor and tackle them to the ground. There was swirl of maroon and he found himself staring into cold blue eyes. Numb shock filled his mind as he realized his opponent was the woman from the streets of Cree. It was impossible, and yet there she was pinned helplessly to the rotting floor. He tried to qualm the rising terror in his mind, endless questions rippled through his brain. Who was she? Arnan flinched as the woman spit into his eye. It was already too late when he realized his mistake. Only a moment passed before the tables were turned once more and Arnan found his throat threatened by her sword point. He did not like what he saw in her eyes, there was a rage so cold and deadly that he was uncertain he’d ever come across any like it. She was young, younger then he had first guessed, and bitterly determined to kill him.

“Death is too good for you, jackal.” The words were spoken with a deadly precision, and Arnan absently noted that her voice would have had a soft, lilting quality to it had it not been so infused with venom. He knew better then to speak, she was already pressing the blade harshly against his throat and he could feel the first trickle of blood run from the sword. Anytime now, Deus, anytime. The thought surprised him. Arnan wasn’t one to place his hope in a distant, hateful, being. He slowly studied his opponent’s eyes in a hope to find some sign of weakness, but all he saw was concentrated hatred. Why? It was a question even more perplexing then how she had tracked him. He stared for a few more moments before deliberately blinking his eyes. As his eyelids closed a terrible image rose before his mind’s eye and a sickening horror filled him. He knew her.

“Meridel?” His question was tentative. A flicker of hate ran through her eyes at his recognition. Methodically she began to bind his hands and feet with a single hand, while keeping the sword to his throat.

He had only seen her once, once she had unsuspectingly locked eyes with him like she would have any other common stranger. Arnan could clearly picture the day; it had been cold, cold and grey.

The crowd was clothed in black and deep blues. Arnan had never before seen a funeral procession and was almost afraid to move through the heavy cloud of sorrow that surrounded him. There was a soft hum coming from the crowd as they began to sing the funeral dirge for their Queen. It almost seemed like a dream, the carriages carrying the royal family moved in slow procession. Arnan lowered his head as the Queen’s byre went by, he couldn’t bear to look. There were many mourners following the procession but his eyes were riveted on only one. She was young girl, dressed in flowing white. The girl seemed to be an angel descended into a cloud of thick darkness. That was when their eyes met, her eyes were filled with broken sorrow. Sorrow Arnan knew he had caused. She had only looked at him for a second, as if looking for some form of comfort and moving on when it was not found. The crowd began whispering and muttering at the sight of this little ray of light in their midst. He listened to the talk, hoping for some clue as to what would happen to the girl. All he ever heard was her name, Meridel. Arnan locked eyes with the Prime Minister. The man had gotten away with his act and smoothly directed the people’s rage toward Arnan. With a final glance toward Meridel, he ran.

“You killed her.” The words were a cold accusation. A true accusation. A wave of despair swept over his body. Perhaps this was justice; perhaps this was Deus finally moving his hand.

He deserved to die. He had been responsible. His life wasn’t worth anything anymore. No one wanted him. He had failed, failed in just about everything. He alone was responsible for what Duard had done to his family. He was responsible for Meridel’s pain; he was responsible for how Gical was using her. He was responsible for destroying Pepper’s life. He was the one who had murdered innocent souls, and stolen away so much happiness. Arnan let the weight of the past years overwhelm him. It wasn’t worth fighting anymore; it wasn’t worth living only for lies. He wouldn’t fight. He refused to. Meridel would slaughter him, and justly so. Pepper would be safe with Little Mother, and Arnan no longer had any family to live for. Even if he did they wouldn’t want him back. Slowly he met the girl’s eyes and choked out the words.

“I was responsible.”

Arnan closed his eyes and let his emotions wander as he waited for the blow. The only thing he did not want to think about was Wren. It seemed like an eternity and the cold blade still remained at his throat, steady and unmoving. He felt it pull away from his throat and heard it clatter against the floor. Arnan opened his eyes just in time to see the girl flee from the room. He didn’t know why but somehow he understood. He was the first person who had been honest with Meridel since her parent’s death. It had caught her off guard; it had caught him off guard. Arnan could not ignore the growing conviction in his mind; she had to know. He moved as quickly as he could, grabbed a stack of papers and sprinted out the door to catch her. The girl was halfway across the clearing when he made it out the door.

“Meridel, wait!” She stopped but did not turn. He could tell by her stance that there were tears streaming down her face. Arnan slowed his pace as he reached the place where she was standing. “You deserve to know what is really happening.” Meridel took the papers without meeting his eyes and began to walk away. Arnan turned around and began to head back to the house to gather his things.

“Thank you.” The words were so faint that he was almost uncertain that he had ever heard them.

“I am going to An Toan. If you travel with me I will protect you. You will be safe from Gical there.” Arnan shook his head and turned away. The words had been impulsive, yet somehow he knew he needed to say them.

_______________________

Arnan paced back and forth across the charred room, letting a torrent of thoughts flow through his mind. Meridel had grown, she was no longer a girl but a woman. Gical had trained her well in the evil trade they both were now slaves of. She had been a small and frail child when he first saw her, only having seen twelve summers. He knew she could now be no more then fourteen or fifteen years of age, yet she had been taught to carry herself as a grown woman. He had seen the transformation in his own siblings as they came of age, even still he could not seem to wrap his mind around this strange young woman to whom he owed so much. He grasped his head and tried to calm down the flow of thoughts. They were incessant, and they were devastating. He paused for a moment to pick up a piece of paper that had fallen to the floor in Meridel's flight. He recognized it immeaditely, and knew the words by heart. They had been haunting him ever since the proclamation had been made nearly three years before.

A Royal Proclamation of the Kingdom of Shanglal.

Grave circumstances have threatened our lands. A fortnight ago our Queen, most beloved of Shanglal, was kidnapped and violently murdered by the assassin, sometime known as Arnan Romany. In this very week the people again with stood a terrifying blow with the murder of their faithful king, again at the hand of Arnan Romany. The Royal Family, and the Officials of the court offer twenty pounds of gold to any man or woman who apprehends this man and returns him to Shanglal for execution. Deus’ grace to your lands, and may he speed whosoever may bring an end to the tyranny of this man.

Prime Minister Gical

Disgust and guilt flowed through Arnan’s veins. He smirked at the crude drawing contained in the picture. The evil looking likeness portrayed barely even resembled him. Arnan spit and threw the paper to the ground, the pain of was still raw… a fact which greatly surprised him.

Arnan wasn’t even sure why he was waiting for her. It was an inconceivable notion. No girl with her senses would choose to place herself under the protection of the very man who was responsible for her mother’s death. Princess. He knew what she was, but he didn’t want to think about the implications. Most of all Arnan did not want to think about what Gical had done to her. It was a choice between two evils. A man responsible for her parents deaths, or a man who sought to kill her as soon as her could. Arnan let out a curse. Why was he waiting? It was likely she would simply come back to finish the job she began. Because he knew he was responsible. Responsible. It was a strange word to comprehend. Arnan had spent his life avoiding being responsible for anyone but himself since the day Illara was born. His footsteps echoed with a furried thud back and forth across the unsteady beams of the home. Something inside him had snapped when he saw her flee. He would protect her, somehow. He had too.

“You do realize that if you let me travel under your protection, your life will be forfeit?” Meridel’s voice came from the door.

Arnan brought his deep green eyes to meet her blue ones as he answered, “Then my life is forfeit.”