The Seeker Ch. 06

She nodded once. She stood and turned, darting out of the tent before he changed his mind. Her small, slim legs quickly put a satisfying distance between them. No pain slowed her pace or kept her close. Wind flushed her cheeks, her hair flew wild around her, her eyes burned from something more than just the air rushing past.

Shadows tracked her movements. She ignored them.

.........

Venlen watched her graceful form glide into the night. For the first time, he sensed some semblance of life coming back to her, some of her spark and fire lighting up again in the night. He thought about what had just happened, and what she had said, all the ways he had hurt her. He knew she was right, and he hated himself for it.

His brooding thoughts turned to his past. He remembered a time when he had felt the same way as she did now. Venlen had been twelve, his brother Damien 18. They had circled each other in a small arena of dirt and mud. Bruises camouflaged the layers of filth on his skin. He hadn't been allowed to bathe in weeks. Damien was hardly better off. A deep cut across his cheek was inflamed with infection.

Their father yelled insults to them from across the dirt ring. Pan, their trainer, stood watching them, his arms crossed, and his eyes narrowed. A man who should have been their mentor and teacher was the source of constant pain and humiliation. Damien panted as he circled Venlen. Five years his brother's junior, Venlen was already stronger than Damien. During his drunken rages, Venlen had absorbed the worst of their father's aggression. It had toughened him, made him more accustomed to the pain, made him quicker on his feet.

Damien reached out to strike. Venlen easily blocked and pivoted around his brother, hooking a foot behind his legs and bringing Damien to the ground. His boot slammed down on Damien's chest and he held it there, looking up to Pan for permission to release the squirming body under him. Pan nodded, and Venlen fell back. Damien cursed and scrambled away from Pan. It was useless. Pan stalked forward until he was on top of Damien. He grabbed a fistful of hair, his fist driving into the young man's face. Damien fell back into the mud. Pan dropped a knee into his chest and gripped him around his throat, strangling him. "You are too weak to defeat a boy?" the man snarled. "You don't deserve to live." He spat in Damien's face, then stalked off toward where Venlen stood watching.

Pan drew a dagger from the belt around his waist. He threw it at Venlen's feet. "Kill him." He looked bored. His father bellowed drunkenly, incomprehensible slurs that marred the air around them, from his cushioned seat. Their mother sat beside him, her face vacant and unseeing. He willed her to look at him, to stop the two bloodthirsty men, to demand they put a stop to what it was they wanted him to do.

Pan narrowed his eyes at Venlen when he refused to pick up the blade. "Kill him, or I kill you, boy." The side of his lip curled up in a smirk. Venlen despised the man.

He knelt and picked up the dagger. Slowly, he walked toward his brother, who squirmed in the filth on the ground. Damien's eyes looked up at him as he approached. They were wide with fear. Fear and... understanding. Forgiveness. They both knew Pan was true to his word. One of them would not walk out of the arena that day.

Venlen stared down at his brother. His young body, too skinny, shook violently. He bounced the hilt in his hand a few times, testing its weight.

"I'm sorry, Damien," he whispered. Then, before anyone could react, the boy who was too quick for his own good spun on his heel and thrust the dagger at his trainer. The dagger spun end over end and found its mark, burying itself deep into Pan's chest. Pan's eyes went wide. His mouth opened and closed like a fish. His father was shouting and cursing as he climbed over the brick wall surrounding the ring. He was caught in his robes, and he tumbled head first into the muck. His mother had finally, finally looked at him then. For barely more than a second, her eyes flashed and brightened, and he could have sworn her lips had curled up into the smallest of smiles. Then it was gone, and she was once again lost to him.

Venlen watched his father struggle to his feet with disgust. He stalked over to where Pan had fallen and yanked the blade from his chest. Blood gurgled in Pan's mouth as he stared up at Venlen with wide eyes. Young Venlen, who had been shaped and molded by pain delivered at the hands of this man and his father, crouched down to look closely at the agony crossing across Pan's face. He smiled down at him. "You should have killed me," he said quietly, and walked away without another look.

Venlen walked over to his brother and gave him his arm, helping Damien to his feet. Together they faced their father, pristine robes now caked with blood and dirt. Together, they had stalked forward.

............

When her cheeks were burned a bright red and her legs ached satisfyingly, she slowed to appreciate the landscape surrounding her. A rainbow of muted greens adorned the rolling hills around her, a patchwork separated by low stone walls weathered by years of rain and wind. Trees were sparse and clustered close to the stone walls as if protecting them. Bright moonlight, as always, lent an ethereal glow to all the land had to offer.

A movement, a crunch of a boot hitting the packed dirt of the road, had her spinning around in a defensive crouch. The healer stood in her path, hands raised, palms facing her, in a gesture of harmlessness.

"Please, sweet girl, don't be afraid. You have enough to fear." His voice was soft and gentle, rolling past his lips in undulating waves of calm and reassurance. Against her better judgement, she relaxed, bringing her hands to her side when they had been raised and ready to strike.

"I wondered what had happened to you," she murmured, her voice suspicious despite the calm way he spoke to her.

"There was something I needed to do, but I have stayed close. I have been watching you, Laiyla of Prevaria. I know what you hide so guardedly." He looked pointedly at her belly and she instinctively raised a protective hand over where she could feel the tiny presence pulsing and growing.

"I mean you no harm. Quite the opposite, actually." The enunciation he placed on you did not escape her. He approached slowly, slipping his hand into his green cloak to pull out a small vial, dark liquid sloshing inside. He held the vial out to her, his arm stretched far from his body, non-threatening and assuredly calm. Cautiously, she reached out and took the vial, holding it up to the light of the moon and peering at the aqueous content inside. She turned her attention back to the healer, questioning eyes blinking up at him.

"It is a potent cocktail, young Seeker. You cannot know what sort of danger awaits you once we arrive at the castle gates. Walking through those doors carrying your... burden... would mean a sure and painful death. It will be better this way, merciful and quick. You could have other children after you are safe."

For a long moment, she regarded the vial. She knew Venlen's men were watching, but also knew they had no knowledge of the choice she was making. She considered what he offered. A way out, a solution to her problem. She thought of the dark eyed child in the vision, the way her heart had leapt with fear as she saw sharp claws wrap around her delicate neck. What was she actually choosing? She didn't know, not exactly. But she knew enough.

Breathing deeply, she turned her palm over, letting the vial drop to the ground. It shattered, spilling its oily content across the path between them. She kept her eyes lowered, looking at the mess. "I can't," she whispered. She was suddenly very cold. She wanted to be back in the warmth of the tent. She wanted to return to her quiet place of apathy.

Sad eyes searched her face. His voice was resigned. "My offer still stands. Just say the word, and another vial will make it into your hands. However, if you truly decide to go down this path, I will lay down my life to protect you both." He inched closer to her, surprisingly tall and utterly unassuming. She stood stock still as he put his arms around her. His breath felt warm and silky against her ear. "I am on your side, Laiyla."

..............

Venlen could feel the pull of the border as they approached. It was like a magnet, the force drawing him closer to home. She rode with him on the chestnut gelding, her back and head pressed to his front as his arms circled her. After her run, she had returned to her sullen, silent self, speaking to him in grunts and growls only when he forced her to his lap, compelling her to eat what small amount he could sneak into her mouth before she snarled and bit at him. He could see now why she had earned her nickname from her friend. Little beast.

"Look, keonai mouv. You can see the border not far ahead." Miles away, they could see a soft glow permeating the black silence of the starless night.

"Why didn't you feel the pain I did when I ran from you back at the cabin? And again, when I refused to come to you?" Her voice was small and quiet, nearly lost over the wind whistling past them. The sudden, unexpected question took him by surprise and he straightened.

"But I did, Laiyla. I felt everything you felt. I suffered every ounce of your pain." He took the reins in one hand and trailed his fingers along her arm. "We are connected through the bond, keonai mouv. When it is in discord, when you disobey me, it punishes us both equally." He bent down, pressing his mouth along her jaw and into the nape of her neck. She sat passive and unmoving.

"How can you stand it, the pain?" she asked, louder this time, enough for him to easily hear her over the wind. He was silent for a while. When he spoke, his tone was thick with something unidentifiable, something dark and gripping that would always be a part of him. "I grew up with pain, keonai mouv. We are like old friends."

She sighed and turned her head against his chest, pressing her ear against the place above his heart. She had been doing that lately. It warmed him in the chill of the night wind.

His great hand slid up her arm and lightly encircled her neck. His grip was soft as he held her jaw, tilting her head up and back, his lips meeting hers in a kiss that was both tender and possessive. Dark hair whipped at his face and neck as his tongue explored her mouth, encouraged when she did not pull away. Through the bond, he felt a sudden stirring. Something vague and guarded, darkened by layers of shadow. He pulled back. Obsidian eyes searched her face. Her lashes fluttered as she looked away, jerking away from his grasp.

"What are you hiding from me, Laiyla?" His voice deepened, his eyes darkened. She was silent, once again staring straight ahead toward the growing light of the border. His free arm encircled her, pulling her flush against his unyielding chest. His voice growled low in her ear. "You can keep nothing from me, keonai mouv." Beneath the layers of her clothes, he felt her trembling. He was bewildered at her lack of a snarky response, her immediate reaction of fear. She had never given in so easily or been so timid.

Curiosity gripped him as he melted and flowed into her mind, searching for what was frightening her. She went rigid under his arm, sucking a sharp breath through clenched teeth. He felt her resistance, invisible claws attempting to push him out. He flowed past them easily, saturating her consciousness with his energy.

His anger grew as he searched and searched and found nothing. Molten metal gripped her head, his voice an echo, strong with command. Show me, Laiyla. She refused to yield. He left no corner of her unturned but found nothing. He snarled in frustration, leaving her in a rush that left her shivering. Her chest heaved as she fell forward against his arm, and he was reminded of that first night in his cabin as he held her and poured the benyecca down her lovely throat. Her body softened with relief at his retreat, and she slumped back against him.

He capitulated. She could not hide from him forever, and if his surrender allowed her the illusion of victory, he would not press her.

They approached the shimmering border, iridescent in the blackness of the night. Despite her fear, he could feel her sense of wonder at the wall of swirling, lustrous color in front of them. The wall was surrounded by an ancient stone archway, time and elements slowly chipping away at the solid structure. They drew near and gazed at the beauty of the luminous portal.

"Say goodbye to this world, Laiyla. I intend to return you to your home, and we will not be back."

"This is my home," she whispered. He frowned and tightened his arm around her. His lips brushed against her ear as he spoke. "Your home is with me, keonai mouv. When we are together, we are both home."

With that, they crossed the border into Prevaria.