The dyos came and went in peace, and soon one pass then two. They hunted together, ran together, climbed together. Iya knew where the sweetest springs where, and she delighted showing him all of her havens. And of course, they played the game. One game Iya was particularly proud of was after Silence had shown her how to make snares. The next morning, Iya was gone when he woke with a stone arrow head on the bedroll beside him and Silence knew the game was afoot.
He searched for her trail, and admitted to himself that she had become nearly impossible to track, but he knew what to look for. A little bit of bark rubbed off a branch, a few fresh leaves on the ground told him she had left the camp from the trees. He still marveled at her skill in using momentum to fly and swing from branch to branch, tree to tree. He had never seen anyone with grace. That game he had been so focused on searching the trees for her trail that he never saw the man-sized snare that caught his ankle and left him dangling. When Iya burst from her hiding spot near the trunk of a bluebirch, she had laughed her silent laugh until she cried, snorted, and had him laughing as well.
Silence taught her to grapple and use her agility to even a fight against a larger, stronger foe. With every skill Iya learned, Silence had to redouble his efforts in the game. Sometimes, she would hide above him and wait for him to pass beneath before launching herself at him and he would barely have time to counter her attack without injury. When they sparred, Iya never held back, and as the seasons came and went, Silence found that he needed to hold back less and less. As she grew, Silence even found himself pressed to best her in grappling. Silence taught her all he knew of numbers and geography. Day in and day out, they were always together.
As the sun rose and they limbered up with the T’al before their regular spar, Silence realized truly how much she had grown and at an alarming rate. Then again, his experience with children was quite limited. Regardless, Silence was sure she had exponentially grown—mentally and physically—since he had first met her only a few pass past. When they had first met, she was no taller than his waist. Now, she was a hand’s width below his shoulder. She was still slender yet he saw that her form narrowed at the waist and curved out again at her hips. If he had to guess her age, she looked to be nearly twenty pass, but from what Silence had gathered, she could not actually be more than fifteen or sixteen.
She almost looks to be a grown w—
Silence had no time to finish his thought as Iya launched herself at him. He barely had time to deflect her blade, and from then on, he was focused on the fight. Silence had been teaching Iya how to duel with the Dyrvn scimitar, a wicked curved blade that broadened to a point nearly a hand’s width from the end and then narrowed down to the tip. These were the blades that the Koryphii were renowned masters of and Iya had learned to wield her scimitar at an alarming rate. Silence parried, counter attacked, and pressed her as hard as he dared, never once making an attack he knew she could not parry.
“Are you going to fight or just flirt with my sword?” Iya signed, raising an eyebrow. Silence snorted.
She knew this whole time I was holding back, he thought with inward pride. He answered with his blade and fought in earnest, holding back less and less. A turn of the glass passed, and then two, and neither gave up the fight. Metal clashed against metal again and again. Every time he tried a new attack, he found himself countering the same attack a few moments later and pride swelled in his heart. Buckets! How quickly she learns!
Both were breathing heavily, and soaked with sweat. It was near midday when Silence gave her an opening to see if she would seize the opportunity. He committed too much of his momentum to a thrust aimed at her abdomen and she countered not by darting to the side, but tossing her scimitar to her right hand, she turned, grabbed his right wrist with her left and pulled him off balance.
Iya whirled with his momentum causing him to stumble, but Silence realized what she was attempting and tucked his shoulder and rolled roughly at the last minute. Iya adapted with his change, and half a moment later sat astride him as he landed on his back, her scimitar at his throat, grinning triumphantly.
Her chest was heaving, and sunlight glistened off her skin as a bead of sweat ran down her chest. Silence could see that her shirt was damp and stuck tightly to her figure. Silence felt an uncomfortable pull in his stomach and felt his body start to respond to the fact that a woman, no longer the child he knew, not only best him at swordplay, but now sat astride him. Silence pushed her off before she could wonder what was happening to him.
“Well played, little sister,” he said as he got up. “And you smell awful.”
Iya rose to her feet, leaned forward, and sniffed in his direction. She gasped, clutched her throat, and fell back to the ground, pantomiming death at his stench.
Silence grinned. He did smell quite offensive. He turned and made his way toward the river-pool as Iya called it. She fell in step beside him, and for a moment he wondered how he would explain to her that they could no longer swim together. How does one explain the rules society to a girl whose only experience has been fear and pain at the hands of other people? To a girl—no, a woman—who has no mother or father to show her the proper way for men and women to interact?
Silence walked beside her and tried to hide the turmoil in his head. Not once before today had he seen her as a woman. He had always thought of her as a child, a sister and at times, a daughter. And she was, was she not? Silence tried to calculate how long he had been with her in the woods, and how old she might be and was astonished both because of her youth and her very rapid growth.
Silence chided himself for overlooking the fact that she was in fact female. What did you expect, fool? That she would remain a child forever? He was ashamed at his oversight. He had been putting off leaving the woods because Iya loved the woods, and it had been a safe haven for them both. But being safe will not give her a future, he thought. It is past time to take her to Dyrvn.
At the river-pool, they parted ways. Silence stripped off his sweat soaked clothes, donned his shortened breeches, and made his way to the river pool and waded in.
At least the water’s cold, he thought as he wondered how he would hide his awkwardness and the reason behind it from Iya. When he was waist deep, he felt a fish swim by and he flinched. A moment later, a foot buckled his knee and Iya launched herself from the water pushing him under.
Silence came up sputtering. Iya grinned and waved the hollow reed she had used as a breathing tube.
“Alright, little sister, you asked for it!” He growled as he dove at her. Iya had time to pantomime fear before she dove beneath the surface and swam away. He chased her half way across the river-pool before he caught her ankle and dunked her soundly. When he finally released her, she splashed water at him and glared.
“You started it,” he said and splashed her back. Iya grinned at him wickedly. At the sight of her treading water and smiling, Silence was abruptly jerked into a ghost of a memory from a time long past. A memory of a woman with dark brunette hair cropped short—a memory of a beautiful woman with entrancing blue eyes who used to smile a smile such as Iya’s at him, and only him.
Agonizing pain stabbed Silence in the heart as he remembered the woman, her smile, and its meaning. Gasping for breath, Silence turned from Iya to retreat to the portion of the river pool hidden from her view for bathing. Iya splashed at him again, but he ignored it. Recognizing the woman in Iya was too painful for Silence.
After bathing, Silence was determined to cleanse his mind of the morning’s events by punishing his body. He set out at a brisk jog away from camp, intent only on putting distance between the awkward morning and Iya. He pushed himself faster and faster, trying to escape the flurry of dissonance in his mind. It was nearly two full turns of the glass before he paused to catch his breath and take a drink from a creek. As he splashed water over his face, a metallic object caught his eye. Silence fished the object out of the creek and stood abruptly in alarm. Silence was gone before the horseshoe splashed back into the creek.
His thoughts consumed him as he threw caution to the wind and pushed himself harder than before to find Iya. I will never forgive myself if my pride has brought harm upon another loved one. Fool! How could you have let your guard down? She was your responsibility! Your charge! You were supposed to protect her!
Upon nearing the campsite, instinct took over and Silence cautiously made his way forward. The campsite was destroyed and two men lay crumpled in the midst of the debris. Silence quickly checked the men—both were dead, killed by scimitar. Rage filled Silence as he examined the scene of the fight, and he gave himself over to the predator. Several paces away from the dead men, he found Iya’s treecloak covered in blood. Rage gave way to madness as he followed the trail, no more than a shadow in the deepening gloom of dusk.
Dy’os had risen when he came upon the marauders’ camp. Silence slipped behind the sentry and broke his neck with a quick twist, catching the sentry and quietly lowered the corpse to the ground. Silence lifted a dagger and short sword off the sentry. Six men remained around the camp fire as Silence circled, looking for Iya. She was unconscious and bound hand and foot between two of the men.
Several horses were hobbled nearby, and Silence deftly slashed the hobbles as he prepared for his assault. When the last horse was free, he gave it a slap on the rear with the flat of his blade and with a roar sent the horses into the campsite. Two men were knocked over by the onslaught, and Silence quickly dispatched them with a flourish of his blade. With a flick of the wrist, a third was brought down by a dagger to the throat.
The three remaining men had enough time to arm themselves as they attempted to surround Silence calling out encouragement to one another. Silence feinted an attack at one, causing him to trip over the body of his companion, and rolled to the side avoiding the onslaught of the others. Blades arched and clashed in the night and moments later the skirmish was concluded as the last man sunk to the ground clutching his abdomen.
Silence went to Iya and cut her bindings. He was flooded with relief as he checked her for injury and only found a blow to the head and a few minor cuts. Rifling through the marauders’ supplies, he found a water skin and gently cleaned her wounds, yet still Iya did not stir.
“Please,” the marauder with the slashed abdomen rasped. “Mercy, please.”
Silence went and knelt by the dying man.
“What do you want with her?” Silence asked, his voice cold and distant.
“Please,” the man gasped.
“Tell me, and I shall grant you mercy. How did you find her?”
“It was just—just—a bounty,” the man said, struggling for breath.
“Who put a price on her head?” Silence asked.
The man shuddered and groaned in agony.
“Who?!” Silence roared.
“Il—Ilyasov,” the man muttered as he lost consciousness.
“Who is Ilyasov?” Silence asked. He slapped the man across the face. “Who is Ilyasov?!” With disgust Silence realized he would get no more answers from the man as he had breathed his last.
After making Iya comfortable, Silence set to stripping the bodies of weapons and valuables. He spent the night burying the dead. The day was dawning as Silence packed up whatever useful items he could carry, including his recovered bow and scimitars, and gathered Iya into his arms. As he was making his way back to their camp, Iya stirred.
“Good morning, little sister,” he said gruffly as she opened her eyes. Iya feebly wrapped her arm around his neck, and pressed her face into his chest. Her body shook with silent sobs and Silence was reminded how tiny and vulnerable she really was. He chided himself again for letting his guard down. It was his fault the marauders caught her alone.
“Hush, now,” Silence said as he gently kissed her hair. “You are safe.” After a moment, her sobs stilled and she slept. As he held her in his arms, Silence vowed that never again would he let anyone harm her. He knew that he would gladly kill again to protect her—that he would give his life to ensure her safety. I make a promise to you, Vay, I will not fail this one. May my life be forfeit if I do.